
ff^f 


mwn 


If 




Mm^ 


hfl 












LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

y M'^^li 

®|itp. @i:i|a|ng]^i !f a. 

Shelf ,.S-?f-- 

Lur 

UNITED STATES OF AMEKICA. 



c 






^ 



^--.GV 



pUNG liOIil^S 



RECITATIONS 



NUIVIBE^R 1 



Oeslgned. for Young F^eople of F^ifteen. 

Years 



f ; 









COMPILED BY 



PUBLICATION DEPARTWIENT 

The National School of Elocution -and Oratory 

PHILADELPHIA 
1888 






.^tc 



Entered according to Act of Congress^ in the year 1884, by 

THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 



321 Chestnut Stieet, 
f hiladelpbiak. 



PREFACE. 



THIS little volume is designed for children between 
the ages of five and fifteen years. 

The need, as well as the numerous inquiries for a 
work of this kind, has led to the preparation of the 
present compilation. 

Our resources for collecting that which is fresh, 
varied, and vigorous are many ; and, while engaged in 
the task of arranging, three things were kept promi- 
nently in view : first, that the selections should neither 
be long nor tedious; second, that there should be an 
abundant variety; and, third, that the tone or character 
should be healthful. Hence, there are short pieces both 
of poetry and prose, some treating of plant and animal 
life, some of childhood pleasures, some brimming with 
innocent fun, some filled with ^patriotic fervor, some 
with bits of philosophy, and others designed to inspire 
the soul with motives toward truth, honor, right, and 

duty. 

iii 



IV PREFACE. 

A few dialogues and acting tableaux are appended, 
and thus through its adaptability it is believed that the 
book will meet the wants of children for the merry- 
makings in the home circle, for church anniversaries, 
and for school exhibitions. Such then is the style and 
character of this collection of Readings and Recitations 
which we offer to you, the Young Folks of our Beloved 
Land, trusting you may find in it much to gratify and 
please, and, above all, that which will lead your minds 
and hearts to thoughts Beautiful, Pure, and Good. 

Mrs. J. W. Shoemaker, 
Philadelphia, January Id, 1884. 



i^p^f^f-'-f^^T? ■!:,'' ""^ 



CONTENTS. 



Success in Life Jama A. Garfield .... 7 

Do Something 9 

How Cyrus Laid the Cable , 10 

Little by Little 11 

What the Winds Bring Edmund Clarence Stedman 12 

The Two Koads 12 

The Boy's Complaint 13 

Never Say Fail 14 

Farewell of the Birds H.K.P. 15 

Boys Wanted . 17 

Do Bight 17 

Goo4 Deeds Dr.T. Chalmera 18 

The Two Commands 18 

A Christmas Eve Adventure 31. M. 19 

The Way to Do It Mary Mapes Dodge .... 21 

Speak the Truth 22 

Battle Bunny— Malvern Hill Bret Harte 23 

A Child's Wisdom 25 

The Nobility of Labor 'Bev. OrviXU Dewey .... 26 

Lazy Daisy 27 

The Moon and the Child George Jacque 28 

The Sparkling Bowl John Pierpont 29 

Sweet Peas Lilian Payson 30 

The King and the Child Eugene J. HaU 31 

Do Tou Know How Many Stars? 33 

The Fathers of the Republic ... • EvereU 34 

A Horse's Petition to His Driver M 

Antony on the Death of Caesar Shakespeare 35 

Sour Grapes 35 

Be in Earnest Bulwer 36 

Suppose Phoebe Gary 37 

The Squirrel's Lesson 38 

Homesick 39 

War Inevitable Patrick Henry 41 

That Calf Phcebe Gary 42 

Johnny the Stout 44 

What the Minutes Say 45 

The Little Boy's Lament 46 

Nature HughMiUer 47 

The Boy and the Frog 47 

Homoeopathic Soup 49 



\1 CONTENTS. 

Lines to Kate 50 

Grand Scheme of Emigration 52 

Brave and True Henry DownUm 63 

The Cobbler 64 

AVhat's the Matter? H.K.P. 65 

Peaceable Secession Webster 66 

Baby's Soliloquy 57 

A Tribute to Water John B, Gough 68 

Grandpapa's Spectacles 69 

Sin Baxter 60 

February Twenty-second Joy Allison 61 

The Stolen Custard 62 

Somebody's Mother Macmillan 63 

Willie's Breeches Etta G. Salsbury 64 

Work TJiomas Ckxrlyle 65 

Loveliness Maria Lacey 66 

Being a Boy Charles Dudley Warner . . 67 

We Must All Scratch 69 

Blowing Bubbles Bev. 0. F, Starkey .... 70 

\Mien the Frost is on the Punkin 72 

America's Obligations to England Colonel Barre 73 

Planting Himself to Grow 74 

Dignity in Labor Neumian Hull 75 

Where Did You Come From, Baby? George Macdonald .... 76 

A Little Boy's Troubles Carlotta Perry 77 

Notes from a Battle-field S. C. Stone 79 

Three Good Doctors S. W. Dtijield, D.D 8"» 

On Conquering America Lord Chatliam St 

The Indian Brave Francis S. Smith 83 

Johnny's Pocket 84 

Six o'clock P. M 85 

A Solium Fac' 86 

The Little Light 87 

The Bird and the Baby Alfred Tennyson 88 

The Return from Battle 89 

The American Flag A. P. Putnam 90 

Lost Tommy Mrs. Julia M. Dana ... 91 

The Foolish Harebell George Macdonald .... 93 

Only a Baby Small Matihias Barr 94 

Brutus on the Death of Caesar Shakespeare 95 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Three Little Mushrooms 90 

Beal Elocution 97 

Knowing the Circumstances 101 

A &«ng of the States 103 







SUCCESS IN LIFE. 



POETS may be born, but success is made ; therefore let 
me beg of you, in the outset of your career, to 
dismiss from your minds all ideas of succeeding by luck. 

There is no more common thought among young peo- 
ple than that foolish one that by and by something will 
turn up by which they will suddenly achieve fame or 
fortune. Luck is an ignis fat u us. You may follow it 
to ruiu, but not to success. The great Napoleon, who 
believed in his destiny, followed it until he saw his star 
go down in blackest night, when the Old Guard perished 
around him, and Waterloo was lost. A pound of pluck 
is worth a ton of luck. 

Young men talk of trusting to the spur of the occa- 
sion. That trust is vain. Occasion cannot make spurs. 
If you expect to wear spurs, you must win them. If you 
wish to use them, you^ust buckle them to your own 
heels before you go into the fight. Any success you may 
achieve is not worth the having unless you fight for it. 
Whatever you win in life you must conquer by your own 
efibrts, and then it is yours — a part of yourself 

Again : in order to have any success in life, or any 
worthy success, you must resolve to carry into your work 
a fullness of knowledge — not merely a sufficiency, but 
more than a sufficiency. Be fit for more than the thing 
you are now doing. Let every one know that you have 
a reserve in yourself; that you have more power than 
you are now using. If you are not too large for the place 
you occupy, you are too small for it. How full our coun- 

7 



8 YOUNG FOLKb' RECITATIONS. 

try is of bright examples, not only of those who .occupy 
some proud eminence in public life, but in every place 
you may find men goiug on with steady nerve, attract- 
ing the attention of their fellow-citizens, and carving out 
for themselves names and fortunes from small and hum- 
ble beginnings and in the face of formidable obstacles. 

Let not poverty stand as an obstacle in your way. Pov- 
erty is uncomfortable, as I can testify ; but nine times 
out of ten the best thing that can happen to a young man 
is to be tossed overboard, and compelled to sink or swim 
for himself. In all my acquaintance, I have never known 
one to be drowned who was worth the saving. This 
would not be wholly true in any country but one of 
political equality like ours. 

The reason is this : In the aristocracies of the Old 
World, wealth and society are built up like the strata of 
rock which c )mpose the crust of the earth. If a boy be 
born in the lowest stratum of life, it is almost impossible 
for him to rise through this hard crust into the higher 
ranks ; but in this country it is not so. The strata of 
our society resemble rather the o^an, where every drop, 
even the lowest, is free to mingle with all others, and may 
shine at last on the crest of the highest wave. This is 
the glory of our country, and you need not fear that there 
are any obstacles which will prove too great for any 
brave heart. 

In giving you being, God locked up in your nature 
certain forces and capabilities. What will you do with 
them ? Look at the mechanism of a clock. Take off 
the pendulum and ratchet, and the wheels go rattling 
down and all its force is expended in a moment ; but 
properly balanced and regulated, it will go on, letting out 
its force tick by tick, measuring hours and days, and 



|^^:^T^"S*^"- 



NUMBER ONE. 9 

doing faithfully the service for which it was designed. I 
implore you to cherish and guard aud use well the forces 
that God has given to you. You may let them run down 
in a year, if you will. Take off the strong curb of dis- 
cipline and morality, and you will be an old man before 
your twenties are passed. Preserve these forces. Do not 
bum them out with brandy, or waste them in idleness 
and crime. Do not destroy them. Do not use them un- 
worthily. Save and protect them, that they may save for 
you fortune and fame. Honestly resolve to do this, and 
you will be an honor to yourself and to your country. 

James A. Garfield. 



DO SOMETHING. 



IF the world seems cold to you. 
Kindle fires to warm it ! 
Let their comfort hide from you 
Winters that deform it. 

Hearts as frozen as your own 
To that radiance gather ; 

You will soon forget to moan, 
" Ah ! the cheerless weather." 

If the world's a vale of tears. 
Smile till rainbows span it ; 

Breathe the love that life endears — 
Clear from clouds to fan it. 

Of our gladness lend a gleam 

Unto souls that shiver ; 
Show them how dark sorrow's stream 

Blends with hope's bright river ! 



10 YOUNG folks' RKCITATIOXS. 

HOW CYRUS LAID THE CABLE. 



COME, listen to my song, it is no silly fable, 
'Tis all about the mighty cord they call the Atlan- 
tic Cable. 

Bold Cyrus Field, said he, **I have a pretty notion 
That I could run a telegraph across the Atlantic Ocean." 

And all the people laughed and said they'd like to see 

him do it ; 
He might get " half seas over," but never would go 

through it. 

To carry out his foolish plan he never would be able ; 
He might as well go hang himself with his Atlantic 
Cable. 

But Cyrus was a valiant man, a fellow of decision. 
And heeded not their careless words, their laughter and 
derision. 

Twice did his bravest efforts fail, yet his mind was stable ; 
He wasn't the man to break his heart because he broke 
his cable. 

" Once more, my gallant boys," said he ; *' three times/' 

— you know the fable. 
" I'll make it thirty," muttered he, " but what 111 lay 

the cable." 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! again hurrah ! what means this great 

commotion ? 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! The cable's laid across the Atlantic 

Ocean. 



l^^^pr^'^^s-^ 



NUMBER ONE. 



II 



Loud ring the bells, for flashing through ten thousand 
leagues of water, 

Old Mother England's benison salutes her eldest daugh- 
ter. 

O'er all the land the tidings spread, and soon in every 
nation, 

They'll hear about the cable with profoundest admira- 
tion. 

Long live the gallant souls who helped our noble Cyrus ; 
And may their courage, faith, and zeal, with emulation 
fire us. 

And may we honor, evermore, the manly, bold and stable. 
And tell our sons, to make them brave, how Cyrus laid 
the Cable. 



LITTLE BY LITTLE. 



ONE step and then another, and the longest walk is 
ended ; 
^One stitch and then another, and the widest rent is 
mended ; 
One brick upon another, and the highest wall is made; 
One flake upon another, and the deepest snow is laid. 

Then do not frown nor murmur at the work you have to 

do. 
Or say that such a mighty task you never can get through ; 
But just endeavor, day by day, another point to gain. 
And soon the mountain that you feared will prove to be 

a plain. 



12 ' YOUNG folks' recitations. 

WHAT THE WINDS BRING. 



WHICH is the wind that brings the cold ? 
The north-wind, Freddy, and all the sno^ 
And the sheep will scamper into the fold, 
When the north begins to blow. 

Which is the wind that brings the heat ? 

The south-wind, Katy ; and corn will grow, 
And peaches redden for you to eat, 

When the south begins to blow. 

Which is the wind that brings the rain ? 

The east-wind, Arty ; and farmers know 
That cows come shivering up the lane 

When the east begins to blow. 

Which is the wind that brings the flowers ? 

The west-wind, Bessy ; and soft and low. 
The birdies sing in the summer hours 

When the west begins to blow. 

Edmund Clarence Stedman. 



THE TWO ROADS. 



WHERE two ways meet the children stand, 
A fair, broad road on either hand ; 
One leads to Right, and one to Wrong ; 
So runs the song. 

Which will you choose, each lass and lad ? 
The right or left, the good or bad ? 
One leads to Right, and one to Wrong ; 
So runs the song. 






NUMBER ONE. 13 

THE BOY'S COMPLAINT. 



"r\H ! never mind, they're only boys ;'' 
yj 'Tis thus the people say, 
And they hustle us and jostle us, 
And drive us out the way. 

They never give us half our rights : 

I know that this is so ; 
Ain't I a boy ? and can't I see 

The way that these things go ? 

The little girls are petted all, 

Called " honey," " dear," and '' sweet," 
But boys are cuffed at home and school, 

And knocked about the street. 

My sister has her rags and dolls 

Strewn all about the floor. 
While old dog Growler dares not put 

His nose inside the door. 

And if I go upon the porch 

In hopes to have a play. 
Some one calls out, " Hollo, young chap, 

Take that noisy dog away !" 

My hoop is used to build a fire. 

My ball is thrown aside ; 
And mother let the baby have 

My top, because it cried. 

If company should come at night. 

The boys can't sit up late ; 
And if they come to dinner, then 

The boys, of course, must wait. 



1 1 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

If any thing is raw or burned • 

It falls to us, no doubt ; 
And if the cake or pudding's short, 

We have to go without. 

If there are fireworks, we can't get 

A place to see at all ; 
And when the soldiers come along 

We're crowded to the wall. 

Whoever wants an errand done, 

We always have to scud ; 
Whoever wants the sidewalk, we 

Are crowded in the mud. 

'Tis hurry-scurry, here and there, 

Without a moment's rest. 
And we scarcely get a " Thank you," if 

We do our very best. 

But never mind, boys — we will be 
The grown men by and by ; 

Then I suppose 'twill be our turn 
To snub the smaller boy. 



NEVER SAY FAIL. 



IN life's rosy morning, 
In manhood's pride. 
Let this be your motto, 

Your footsteps to guide : 
In storms and in sunshine. 

Whatever assail. 
We'll onward and conquer, 
And never say fail. 






NUMBER ONE. 15 

FAKEWELL OF THE BIRDS. 



TO Jennie at play in the garden, 
To Bessie and Maud on the hill, 
To all the sweet children that frolic 
So gayly by brooklet and rill 
We are coming to-day. 

But, hush ! Never tell ! 
We are coming, I say, 
To bid you farewell ! 

You welcomed us early in spring, 

With laughter and shoutings so sweet ; 
To your childhood our music we bring. 
You scatter your crumbs at our feet. 
You love us, we know. 
Now listen, 'tis true : 
We're sorry to sing 
This farewell to you. 

WeVe led you full many a race 

O'er hillside and valley and dell ; 
We've beckoned you on to the forest. 

And shown you where wild flowers dwell ; 
We've twittered and sung 

New songs every day ; 
We'll give a grand chorus 
E'er flying away. 

Where berries are ripest and sweetest. 
Where grapes their rich perfume distill, 

We enticed you by flutter and music. 
Your little school-baskets to fill. 



16 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

We showed you our nest, 

In shadiest nook ; 
We trusted your honor 

To take but a look. 

But the berries are gone from the roadside, 
The flowers hold the dew-drops no more ; 
The grapes from the vine have been gathered. 
And, children, our play-time is o'er. 
Good-bye, then, to Bessie, 

To Clara, and May, 
To all who are kind 

To the birds at their play. 

We go where the days are all sunny, 
The breezes all softened and bland, 
Where flowers and fruits never fail, 
In a far-away, dreamy Southland. 
But we love you all as well. 

Now list while we sing : 
We are sure to fly back 
At the coming of spring. 

Yes, in the spring time again 

We'll build near your homes in the tree ; 
We hope that each laughing-eyed urchin 
And maiden will be there to see. 
But now we must go ; 

Oh ! pray, do not cry, 
As upward and onward 
We warble, Good-bye. 

H. K. P. 



NUMBER ONE. 17 

BOYS WANTED. 



BOYS of spirit^ boys of will, 
Boys of muscle, brain, and power. 
Fit to cope with anything, 

These are wanted every hour. 

Not the weak and whining drones. 
Who all troubles magnify ; 

Not the watchword of " I can't," 
But the nobler one, " I'll try." 

Do whate'er you have to do 
With a true and earnest zeal ; 

Bend your sinews to the task, 

" Put your shoulder to the wheeL* 



Though your duty may be hard. 
Look not on it as an ill ; 

If it be an honest task. 

Do it with an honest wilL 

In the workshop, on the farm. 
At the desk, where'er you be. 

From your future efforts, boys. 
Comes a nation's destiny. 



DO RIGHT. 



DO what conscience says is right ; 
Do what reason says is best ; 
Do with all your mind and might; 
Do your duty and be blest. 
2 



IS YOUNG folks' recitations. 

GOOD DEEDS. 



THOUSANDS of men breathe, move, and Kve, pass 
off the stage of life, aud are heard of no more. 
Why? They do not partake of good in this world, and 
none were blessed by them ; none could point to them 
as the means of their redemption ; not a line they wrote, 
not a word they spake, could be recalled ; and so they 
perished ; their light went out in darkness, and they were 
not remembered more than insects of yesterday. Will 
you thus live and die, O man immortal? Live for some- 
thing. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of 
virtue that the storm of time can never destroy. Write 
your name, in kindness, in love, and mercy, on the hearts 
of thousands you come in contact with year by year : you 
will never be forgotten. No ! Your name, your deeds, 
will be as legible on the hearts you leave behind you as 
the stars on the brow of evening. Good deeds will shine 
as the stars of heaven. 

Dr. T. Chalmers. 



THE TWO COMMANDS. 



THIS is the first and great command : 
To love thy God above ; 
And this the second : As thyself 
Thy neighbor thou shalt love. 
Who is thy neighbor ? He who wantf 

A help which thou canst give ; 
And both the law and prophets say. 
This do and thou shalt live. 



i:^:^^^^^X^f.f^.^ 



KUMBER OXE. 19 

A CHRISTMAS EVE ADVENTURE. 



ON"CE on a time, in a queer little town 
On the shore of the Zuyder Zee, 
When all the good people were fast asleep, 
A strange thing happened to me ! 

Alone, the night before Christmas, 

I sat by the glowing fire, 
Watching the flame as it rose and fell, 

While the sparks shot high and higher. 

Suddenly one of these sparks began 

To flicker and glimmer and wink 
Like a big bright eye, till I hardly knew 

What to do or to say or to think. 

Quick as a flash, it changed to a face. 

And what in the W'orld did I see 
But dear old Santa Claus nodding his head. 

And waving his hand to me! 

** Oh! follow me, follow me!" soft he cried, — 
And up through the chimney with him 

I mounted, not daring to utter a word 
Till we stood on the chimney's rim. 

" Now tell me, I beg you, dear Santa Claus, 

Where am I going with you?" 
He laughingly answered, " Why, don't you know? 

To travel the wide world through ! 

" From my crystal palace, far in the North, 

I have come since dark, — and see 
These curious things for the little folk 

Who live on the Zuyder Zee." 



20 ^ YOUNG folks' RECTTATIOKS. 

Then seating himself in his reiadeer sledge, 
And drawing me down by his side, 

He whistled, and off on the wings of the wind 
We flew for our midnight ride. 

But first, such comical presents lie left 
For the little Dutch girls and boys, — 

Onions and sausages, wooden-faced dolls, 
Cheeses and gingerbread toys ! 

Away we hurried far to the South, 
To the beautiful land of France ; 

And there we showered the loveliest gifts, — 
Flaxen-haired dolls that could dance. 

Soldiers that marched at the word of command, 

Necklaces, bracelets, and rings. 
Tiny gold watches, all studded with gems. 

And hundreds of exquisite things. 

Crossing the Channel, we made a short call 

In Scotland and Ireland, too ; 
Left a warm greeting for England and Wales, 

Then over the ocean we flew 

Straight to America, where by myself. 

Perched on a chimney high, 
I watched him scramble and bustle about 

Between the earth and the sky. 

Many a stocking he filled to the brim. 

And numberless Christmas trees 
Burst into bloom at his magical touch I 

Then all of a sudden, a breeze 







J-^-v-v • ^ -^.V^, 



NUMBER ONE. 21 



Caught US and bore us away to the South, 
And afterward blew us " out West :" 

And never till dawn peeped over the hills 
Did we stop for a moment's rest. 

" Christmas is coming !" he whispered to me, 
You can see his smile in the sky, — 

T wish Merry Christmas to all the world ! 
My work is over, — ^good-bye !" 

Like a flash he was gone, and I was alone, — • 

For all of this happened to me 
Once on a timo, in a queer little town 

On the shore of the Zuyder Zee ! M. M. 



THE WAY TO DO IT. 



I'LL tell you how I speak a piece: 
First, I make my bow ; 
Then I bring my words out clear 
And plain as I know how. 

Next, I throw my hands up — so ! ^ 

Then I lift my eyes : 
That's to let my hearers know 

Something doth surprise. 

Next, I grin and show my teeth, 

Nearly every one. 
Shake my shoulders, hold my sides : 

That's the sign of ftm. 



22 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

Next, I start, and knit my brows, 

Hold my head erect : 
Something's wrong, you see, and I 
' Decidedly object. 

Then I wabble at my knees. 

Clutch at shadows near, 
Tremble well from top to toe: 

That's the sign of fear. 

Now I start, and with a leap, 

Seize an airy dagger, 
" Wretch !" I cry : That's tragedy. 

Every soul to stagger. 

Then I let my voice grow faint. 

Gasp, and hold my breath. 
Tumble down and plunge about : 

That's a villain's death. 

Quickly then I come to life. 

Perfectly restored ; 
With a bow my speech is done. 

Now you'll please applaud. 

Mary Mapes Dodge, 



SPEAK THE TRUTH. 



SPEAK the truth! 
Speak it boldly, never fear, 
Speak it so that all may hear, 
In the end it shall appear 
Truth is best in age and youth ; 
Speak the truth. 



XCMBER ONE. 23 

BATTLE BUNNY— MALVERN HILK 



[Vfter the men were ordered to lie down, a white rabbit, which had 
»»ce:i hopping hither and thither over the field swept by grai)e and mus- 
ketry, took refuge among ti^e skirniishers, in the breast of a corporaL] 

BUNNY, lying in the grass. 
Saw the shiny column pass. 
Saw the starry banner fly. 
Saw the chargers fret and fume. 
Saw the flapping hat and plume — 
Saw them with his moist and shy. 
Most unspeculative eye. 
Thinking only, in the dew, ** 
That it was a fine review — 
Till a flash, not all of steel. 
Where the rolling caisson's whed 
Brought a rumble and a roar 
Rolling down that velvet floor. 
And like blows of autumn flail 
Sharply threshed the iron haiL 

Bunny, thrilled by unknown feara. 
Raised his soft and pointed ears, • 

Mumbled his prehensile lip, 
Quivered his pulsating hip, 
As the sharp, vindictive yell 
Rose above the screaming shell : 
Thought the world and all its men^ 
All the charging squadrons meant 
All were rabbit hunters then, 
All to capture him intenL 
Bunny was not much to blame ; 
Wiser folk have thought the same- 
Wiser folk, who think they spy 
Every ill begins with " L" 



24 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

Wildly ranting here and there. 
Bunny sought the freer air, 
Till he hopped below the hill. 
And saw lying, close and still, 
Men with muskets in their hands* • 
Never Bunny understands 
That hypocrisy of sleep. 
In the vigils grim they keep. 
As recumbent on that spot 
They elude the level shot. 

One — a gr^e and quiet man. 
Thinking of his wife and child 
Where the Androscoggin smiled — • 
Felt the little rabbit creep, 
Nestling by his arm and side. 
Wakened from strategic sleep. 
To that soft appeal replied, 
Drew him to his blackened breast^ 
And— 

But you have guessed the resL 
Softly o*er that chosen pair 
Omnipresent Love and Care 

Drew a mightier Hand and Arm, 
Shielding them from every harm ; 
Eight and left the bullets waved. 
Saves the savior for the saved. 



i.^ 



Who believes that equal grace 
God extends in every place. 
Little difference he s^ns 
*Twixt a rabbit's God and man^s. 

Bket Hartb. 






NUMBER ONE. 25 

A CHILD'S WISDOM. 



'rpWAS the hour of prayer, and the farmer stood, 

JL With a thankful heart and a lowly mind. 
And prayed to the Author of every good. 

That the Father of all would be very kind 
And bless His creatures with raiment and food. 
That His blessing each day might be renewed, 
That every want might find relief. 
And plenty for hunger, joy for grief. 
Be measured out by the merciful One, 
To all who suffered beneath the sun. 

The prayer concluded, the godly man 
Went forth in peace to inspect his farm ; 

And by his side, delighted ran. 

Blooming with every healthful charm, 

A little son, a sprightly boy, 

Whose home was love and whose life was joy. 

And they rambled over the golden fields. 

And the father said " The harvest yields 

A plentiful crop, my son, this year. 

My barns are too small for the grain, I fear.** 

And they wandered on through row upon row, 

Of plumy sheaves, till at length the child, 
With earnest look and a brighter glow 

On his shining face, looked up and smiled. 
And said, " My father, do you not pray 
For the poor and needy every day, 
That the good God would give the hungry food ?" 
" I do, my son." " Well, I think as you plead," 
His eye waxed bright, for his soul shone through it, 
•^That God, if He had your wheat, would do it," 



. ^ ^, J .. , J. , 

26 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

THE NOBILITY OF LABOR. 



I CALL upon those whom I address to stand up for the 
nobility of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance 
for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance 
be broken down. What do I say? It is broken do^vn; 
and it has been broken down for ages. Let it, then, be 
built up again ; here, if anywhere, on these shores of a 
new world — of a new civilization. But how, I may be 
asked, is it broken down ? Do not men toil ? it may be 
said. They do, indeed, toil ; but they, too, generally do 
it because they must. Many submit to it as, in some 
sort, a degrading necessity ; and they desire nothing so 
much on earth as escape from it. They fulfill the great 
law of labor in the letter, but break it in the spirit; 
fulfill it with the muscle, but break it with the mind. 
To some field of labor, mental or manual, every idler 
should fasten, a^ a chosen and coveted theatre of im- 
provement. But so is he not impelled to do, under the 
teachings of our imperfect civilization. On the contrary, 
he sits down, folds his hands, and blesses himself in his 
idleness. This way of thinking is the heritage of the 
absurd and unjust feudal system, under which serfs 
labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and 
feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were 
done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou ? Ashamed of 
thy dingy workshop and dusty labor-field; of thy hard 
hands, scarred with service more honorable than that 
of war ; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on 
which Mother Nature has embroidered, 'midst sun and 
rain, 'midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors ? 
Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the 
flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity ? It is 






KUMEER ONE. 27 



treason to Nature — it is impiety to Heaven — it is break- 
ing Heaven's great ordinance. Toil, I repeat — toil, 
either of the brain, or of the heart, or of the hand, is 
the only true manhood, the only true nobility ! 

Eev. Orville Dewey. 



LAZY DAISY. 



LITTLE Daisy is so lazy 
This is what she does ; 
Just as soon as breakfast's eaten 
Off to bed she goes. 

Lazy Daisy ne'er was seen 

Reading in a book. 
But she loves to lie and sleep 

In a sunny nook. 

" Daisy, come and play with me," 

Little Ethel cries ; 
Daisy sleeps and nods away, 

Does n't wink her eyes. \ 

Daisy, though she's three years old, | 

Cannot tell her name ; t 

Does n't know her A, B, C : j 

Isn't it a shame? t 

I 

But she sings one little song, ^ 

Very soft and pretty : ' t 

Purr-purr-purr the whole day long- 
Daisy is a kitty. |] 

i: 



28 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

THE MOON AND THE CHILD. 



A LITTLE child one winter night, 
Ere she was put to bed, 
Went out and saw the full clear moon, 
And in she ran and said — 

" Mamma ! mammaj come here ! come quick! 

Mamma ! God's gone to bed, 
And has not put His candle out ! 

" Hush, child !" the mother said, 

" God does not go to bed like us. 

Nor does He need to sleep." 
"And does He sit up all the night, 

Watch over us to keep ?'' 

" He watches o'er us night and day. 

But needs no light to see." 
" No light, mamma?" " No light, my child." 

" Mamma, how can it be?" 

" He makes the owls to see by night, 

As if the daylight shone ; 
And darkness is to Him as light, 

And eyes He needeth none." 

"No eyes! — then is He blind, mamma?'* 

" No, child. He sees so well. 
That everything is seen by Him 

In heaven, earth, and hell." 

" How strange, mamma, that He should see 

When He's so far away." 
" Not far, for He is everywhere, 

And with us night and day." 



NUMBER ONE. 29 

"Why don't we Bee Him then, mamma?" 

" I cannot tell you how, 
But this I know, you cannot see 

The air you're breathing now; 

" And neither can you see my soul, 

Nor yet your owd, I ween. 
It is not then so very strange 

That God should not be seen. 

" Now go to bed, and ere you go 

To God your prayers say. 
That He may please to spare your life 

To see another day." 

George Jacque. 



THE SPARKLING BOWL. 



THOU sparkling bowl ! thou sparkling bowl ! 
Though lips of bards thy brim may press. 
And eyes of beauty o'er thee roll, 

And song and dance thy power confess, 
I will not touch thee ; for there clings 
A scorpion to thy side that stings ! 

Thou crystal glass ! like Eden's tree, 

Thy melted ruby tempts the eye, 
And, as from that, there comes from thee 

The voice, " Thou shalt not surely die.'* 
I dare not lift thy liquid gem ; 
A snake is twisted round thy stem 1 



oO YOUNG folks' RECITATIONS. 

What though of gold the goblet be, 
Emboss'd with branches of the vine. 

Beneath whose burnish'd leaves we see 
Such clusters as pour'd out the wine ? 

Among those leaves an adder hangs ! 

I fear him ; — for I've felt his fangs. 

Ye gracious clouds ! ye deep, cold wells I 
Ye gems, from mossy rocks that drip ! 

Springs, that from earth's mysterious cells 
Gush o'er your granite basin's lip! 

To you I look ; — your largess give. 

And I will drink of you, and live. 

John Pierpont. 



SWEET PEAS. 



"T)LEASE wear my rosebud, for love, papa," 

J- Said Phebe with eyes so blue. 
" This sprig of myrtle put with it, papa, 

To tell of my love," said Prue. 
Said Patience, " This heart' s-ease shall whisper, papa, 

Forget not my love is true." 

Papa looked into the laughing eyes. 

And answered, to each little girl's surprise : 

"My darlings, I thank you, but dearer than these — 

Forgive me — far dearer are bonnie sweet peas!" 

Then he clasped them to his heart so true, 

And whispered, " Sweet P's — ^Phebe, Patience, and Prue 1" 

LiL.IAN PaYSON. 



NUMBER ONE. 31 

THE KING AND THE CHILD. 

THE sunlight shone on walls of stone 
And towers sublime and tall ; 
King Alfred sat upon his throne 
Within his council hall. 

And glancing o'er the splendid throng, 

With grave and solemn face, 
To where his noble vassals stood, 

He saw a vacant place. 

"Where is the Earl of Holderness?" 

With anxious look, he said. 
" Alas, O Kiug !" a courtier cried, 

** The noble Earl is dead r 

Before the monarch could express 

The sorrow that he felt, 
A soldier with a war-worn face 

Approached the throne and knelt. 

" My sword," he said, " has ever been, 

O King! at thy command. 
And many a proud and haughty Dane 

Has fallen by my hand. 

"I've fought beside thee in the field. 

And 'neath the greenwood tree ; 
It is but fair for thee to give 

Yon vacant place to me." 

** It is not just," a statesman cried, 

" This soldier's prayer to hear, 
My wisdom has done more for thee 

Than either sword or spear. 



32 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

• 

" The victories of the council hall 

Have made thee more renown 
Than all the triumphs of the field 

Have given to thy crown. 

" My name is known in every land, 

My talents have been thine, 
Bestow this Earldom, then, on me, 

For it is justly mine." 

Yet, while before the monarch's throne 

These men contending stood, 
A woman crossed the floor who wore 

The weeds of widowhood. 

And slowly to King Alfred's feet 

A fair-haired boy she led — 
*'0 King! this is the rightful heir 

Of Holderness," she said. 

" Helpless he comes to claim his own, 

Let no man do him wrong. 
For he is weak and fatherless. 

And thou art just and strong." 

" What strength of power," the statesman cried, 

" Could such a judgment bring? 
- Can such a feeble child as this 
Do aught for thee, O King? 

" When thou hast need of brawny arms 

To draw thy deadly bow^s, 
When thou art wanting crafly men 

To crush tny mortal foes." 



NUMBER ONE. 33 

With earnest voice the fair young boy 

Replied: " I cannot fight, 
But I can pray to God, O King ! 

And Heaven can give thee might !" 

The King bent down and kissed the child. 

The courtiers turned away. 
" The heritage is thine," he said, 

" Let none their right gainsay. 

" Our swords may cleave the casques of men, 

Our blood may stain the sod. 
But what are human strength and power 

Without the help of God!" 

Eugene J. Hall. 



DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY STAES? 



DO you know how many stars 
There are shining in the sky? 
Do you know how many clouds 

Every day go floating by? 
God in Heaven has counted all. 
He would miss one should it falL 

Do you know how many childr^i 
Go to little beds at night. 

And without a care or sorrow, 
Wake up in the morning light? 

Gt)d in Heaven each name can tell, 

Knows you, too, and knows you well^ 
3 



o4 YOUNG folks' KEriTATIONS. 

THE FATHERS OF tHE REPUBLIC. 



TO be cold and breathless, to feel not and speak not — 
this is not the end of existence to the men who have 
breathed their spirits into the institutions of their coun- 
try, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of 
the age, who have poured their hearts' blood into the 
channels of the public prosperity. 

Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, 
is Warren dead ? Can you not still see him — not pale 
and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouriug out 
of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the 
field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek 
and the fire of liberty in his eye ? 

Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the 
shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that 
cold and narrow house? That which made these men, 
and men like these, cannot die. 

The hand that traced the charter of independence is, 
indeed, motionless ; the eloquent lips that sustained it are 
hushed ; but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved and 
maintained it, and which alone, to such men, make it 

life to live — these cannot expire. 

Everett. 



A HORSE'S PETITION TO HIS DRIVER. 



UP the hill, whip me not ; down the hill, hurry me 
not ; in the stable, forget me not ; of hay and corn, 
rob me not ; of clean water, stint me not ; with sponge 
and brush, neglect me not ; of soft, dry bed, deprive me 
not ; if sick or cold, chill me not ; with bit and reins, 
oh 1 jerk nte not ; and when you are angry, strike me not 



NUMcrr. o^E. 35 

ANTONY ON THE DEATH OF C^SAR. 






GOOD friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 
They, that have done this deed, are honorable : 
What private griefe they have, alas ! I know not, 
That made them do 't ; they are wise and honorable. 
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
I came not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; 
I ard no orator, as Brutus is ; 
But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man. 
That love my friend, and that they know full well 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth. 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech. 
To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; 
I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; 
Show you sweet Csesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb moutha^ 
And bid them speak for me : But were I Brutus 
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Caesar, that should move 
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 

Shakespeare. 



SOUR GRAPES. 



A FOX was trotting on one day, 
And just above his head 
He spied a vine of luscious grapes. 

Rich, ripe, and purple-red ; 
Eager he tried to snatch the fruit. 
But, ah I it was too high ! 



36 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

Poor Reynard had to give it up, 

And, heaving a deep sigh, . 
He curl'd his nose and said, " Dear me 1 

I would not waste an hour 
Upon such mean and common fruit — 

I'm sure those grapes are sour !" 
'Tis thus we often wish thro' life, 

When seeking wealth and pow'r ; 
And when we fail, say, like the fox, 

We're ** sure the grapes are sour !" 



BE IN EARNEST. 



NEVER be ashamed to say, " I do not know." Men 
will then believe you when you say, ** I do know." 

Never be ashamed to say, " I can't afford it ;" " I can't 
afford to waste time in the idleness to which you invite 
me," or " I can't afford the money you ask me to spend." 
Never affect to be other than you are — either wiser or 
richer. 

Learn to say " No " with decision ; " Yes " with cau- 
tion. " No " with decision whenever it resists temptation ; 
" Yes " with caution whenever it implies a promise ; for 
a promise once given is a bond inviolable. 

A man is already of consequence in the world when it 
is known that we can implicitly rely upon him. Often 
have I known a man to be preferred in stations of honor 
and profit because he had this reputation : when he said 
he knew a thing, he knew it ; and when he said he would 
do a thing, he did it. 

BULWER. 



NUMBER ONE. 37 

SUPPOSE. 

SUPPOSE, my little lady, 
Your doll should break her head. 
Could you make it whole by crying 

Till eyes and nose are red ? 
And wouldn't it be pleasanter 

To treat it as a joke, 
And say you're glad 'twas dolly's 
And not your head that broke? 

Suppose you're dressed for walking 

And the rain comes pouring down. 
Will it clear off any sooner 

Because you scold and frown ? 
And wouldn't it be nicer 

For you to smile than pout, 
And so make sunshine in the house 

When there is none without ? 

Suppose your task, my little man, 

Is very hard to get. 
Will it make it any easier 

For you to sit and fret? 
And wouldn't it be nicer 

Than waiting like a dunce, 
To go to work in earnest 

And learn the thing at once ? 

And suppose the world don't please you. 

Nor the way some people do. 
Do you think the whole creation 

Will be altered just for you ? 



38 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

And isn't it, my boy or girl, 

The bravest, wisest plan 
Whatever comes or doesn't come. 

To do the best you can ? 

Phcebe Gary. 



THE SQUIRREL'S LESSON. 



TWO little squirrels, out in the sun, 
One gathered nuts, and the other had none; 
"Time enough yet," his constant refrain; 
" Summer is still only just on the wane." 

Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate: 

He roused him at last, but he roused him too late; 

Down fell the snow from a pitiless cloud, 

And gave little squirrel a spotless white shroud. 

Two little boys in a school-room were placed, 

On-e always perfect, the other disgraced ; 

"Time enough yet for my learning," he said ; 

" I will climb, by and by, from the foot to the head." 

Listen, my darling ; their locks are turned gray ; 

One as a Governor sitteth to-day; 

The other, a pauper, looks out at the door 

Of the almshouse, and idles his days as of yore. 

Two kinds of people we meet every day: 
One is at work, the other at play. 
Living uncared for, dying unknown — 
The busiest hive hath ever a drone. 



KUMBEK ONE. 39 

HOMESICK. 



DOLLY knows what's the matter — Dolly and I. 
It isn't the mumps nor the measles — oh! dear, I 
shall die! 
It's the mothering we want, Dolly, the — what shall I 

call it? 
And grandpa says he has sent — he put the 'spatch safe 
in his wallet. 

I know well enough he dropped that telegraph 'spatch 
in the fire, 

If mother just knew, she'd come, if 'twas on the tele- 
graph wire! 

She'd take my poor head, that is splitting this very 
minute. 

And she'd sing " There's a Happy Land," and the hymn 
that has "Darling" in it. 

'Course, I like grandpa's house ; it's the splendidest place 
to stay, 

When there's all the out-doors to live in, and nothing to 
do but play; 

Somehow you forget your mother — that is, just the lit- 
tlest bit. 

Though if she were here, I suppose that I shouldn't 
mention it. 

But oh! there's a difference, Dolly, when your head is 

so full of pains 
That ('cepting the ache that's in 'em) there's nothing 

left of your brains. 
Remember how nice it feels, Dolly, to have your head 

petted and "poored." 
Ache? Why, I ache all over, and my bed is as hard as 

a board. 



40 YOUNG FOLKS PwECITATIONS. 

Nurse saya " It's a sweet, lovely morning.'* It may be 

for all that I care; 
There is just one spot in this great wide world that is 

pretty — I wish I was there ! 
I can see the white roses climbing all over the low porch 

door, 
And the daisies and buttercups growing — I never half 

loved them before. 

And mother — let's see ! she's standing in that very same 
door, no doubt ; 

She loves to look out in the morning and see what the 
world is about. 

In a pale-blue something-or-other — ^a loose sort of wrap- 
per, I guess ; 

As if a few yards of sky had been taken to make a 
dress. 

And up from the pine woods yonder comes a beautifiil 

woodsy smell, 
And the breeze keeps a hinting of May flowers — the 

real-pink arbutus bell ; 
And I think most likely the robins have built in the I 

cherry tree ; 
And by and by there'll be birdies — and I shall not be 

there to see ! 

Did you hear any noise, Dolly ! Speak, Dolly, you lit- « 

tie witch ! 1 

As if something was laughing — or crying! I couldn't ^ 
tell which! 



NUMBER ONE. 41 

We've kept from crying, so far; we've choked but we 

wouldn't cry ; 
Tve just talked it out to you, dear; I had to, or else Vo 

die. 

But if that is yon, mother — and I know hy your lips 

that it is — 
I'll just squeeze your head off! — you think that all I 

want is a kiss I 
O mother! to papa and Tom yon needn't go mention it, 
But you know it was homesickness almost killed your 

poor little Kit! 



WAR INEVITABLE. 

SIR, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a 
just God who presides over the destinies of nations, 
and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. 
The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the 
vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no 
election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now 
too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat 
but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! 
Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! 
The war is inevitable: and let it cornel I repeat it, sir, 
let it come ! 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
may cry, Peace, peace ; but there is no peace. The war 
is actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the 
North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms I 
Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we 



42 YOUNG FOLK?' rwECITATIONS. 

here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What 
would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as 
to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ? For- 
bid it, Heaven! I know not what course others may 
take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death. 

Patrick Henry. 



THAT CALF. 



TO the yard, by the barn, came the farmer one mom, 
And, calling the cattle, he said. 
While they trembled with fright: "Now which of you, 
last night, 
Shut the barn door while I was abed?"' 
Each one of them all shook his head. 

Now the little calf Spot, she was down in the lot, 
And the way the rest talked was a shame; 

For no one, night before, saw her shut up the door; 
But they said that she did, all the same. 
For they always made her take the blame. 

Said the horse (dapple gray), " I was not up that way 

Last night, as I now recollect;" 
And the bull, passing by, tossed his horns very high, 

And said, " Let who may here object, 

I say this, that calf I suspect." 

Then out spoke the cow, "It is terrible now, 

To accuse honest folks of such tricks." 
Said the cock in the tree, " I'm sure 'twasn't me ;" 

And the sheep all cried, " Bah ! (there were six) 

Now that calf's got herself in a fix." 



rp^:;5^:^:.J^,»?^rv^^'-:'.^^5 



NUMBER ONE. 43 

•* Why, of course we all knew 'twas the wrong thing to 
do/' 
Said the chickens. " Of course," said the cat. 
•* I suppose/' cried the mule, " some folks think me a 
fool, 
But I'm not quite so simple as that ; 
The poor calf never knows what she's at." 

Just that moment, the calf, who was always the laugh 
And the jest of the yard, came in sight. 

** Did you shut my barn door ?'' asked the farmer once 
more. 
" I did, sir, I closed it last night," 
Said the calf; " and I thought that was right." 

Then each one shook his head. " She will catch it," they 
cried, 

" Serves her right for her meddlesome ways." 
Said the farmer, " Come here, little bossy, my dear, 

You have done what I cannot repay. 

And your fortune is made from to-day. 

" For a wonder, last night, I forgot the door quite, 
And if you had not shut it so neat. 

All my colts had slipped in, and gone right to the bin, 
And got what they ought not to eat, 
They'd have foundered themselves upon wheat." 

Then each hoof of them all began loudly to bawl, 
The very mule smiled, the cock crew : 

" Little Spotty, my dear, you're a favorite here," 
They cried, " we all said it was you, 
We were so glad to give you your due." 
And the calf answered knowingly, " Boo !" 

Phcebe Gary. 



44 YOUNG FOT.KS' RECITATIONS. 

JOHNNY THE STOUT, 



**TTO! forafroKcr 

JUL Said Johnny the stout; 
** There's coasting and sledding— 
I'm going out" 

Scarcely had Johnny- 
Plunged in the snow, 

When there came a complaint 
Up from his toe : 

"We're cold,'* said the toe, 

" I and the rest ; 
There's ten of us freezing, 

Standing abreast." 

Then up spoke an ear ; 

" My, but it's labor — 
Playing in winter. Eh ! 

Opposite neighbor 1" 

" Pooh !" said his nose. 

Angry and red ; 
** Who wants to tingle f 

Go home to bed !" 

Eight little fingers, 

Four to a thumb. 
All cried together — 

" Johnny, we're numb I** 

But Johnny the stout 

Wouldn't listen a minute; 

Never a snow bank 
But Johnny was in it. 



NUMBER ONE. 45 



Tumbling and jumping, 
Shouting with glee, 

Wading the snow-drifts 
Up to his knee. 

Soon he forgot them — 
Fingers and toes, 

Never once thought of 
The ear and the nose. 

Ah ! What a frolic ! 

All in a glow, 
Johnny grew warmer 

Out in the snow. 

Often his breathing 
Came with a joke ; 

" Blaze away, Johnny ! 
I'll do the smoke." 

"And ril do the fire/' 
Said Johnny the bold. 

" Fun is the fuel 

For driving off cold.'' 



WHAT THE MINUTES SAT. 



WE are but minutes, little things, 
Each one furnished with sixty wing». 
With which we fly on our unseen track, 
And not a minute ever comes, back. 



46 



We are but minutes ; each one bears 
A little burden of joys and cares ; 
Take patiently the minutes of pain, 
The worst of minutes cannot remain. 

We are but minutes ; when we bring 
A few of the drops from Pleasure's spring, 
Taste their sweetness while yet ye may. 
It takes but a minute to fly away. 



THE LITTLE BOY'S LAMENT. 



OH ! why must I always be washed so clean 
And scrubbed and drenched for Sunday, 
When you know, very well, for you've always seen. 
That I'm dirty again on Monday ? 

My eyes are filled with the lathery soap. 

Which adown my ears is dripping ; 
And my smarting eyes I can scarcely ope, 

And my lips the suds are sipping. 

It's down my neck and up my nose, 

And to choke me you seem to be trying ; 

That I'll shut my mouth you need not suppose, 
For how can I keep from crying ? 

You rub as hard as ever you can, 

And your hands are hard, to my sorrow ; 

No woman shall wash me when I'm a man, 
And I wish I was one to-morrow. 



•Atf 



NUMBER ONE. 

NATURE. 



^^ ^:^^.;f.: .^"^v. : ^^^i^iy/iijm^ 



47 



NATURE will be reported — all things are engaged 
in writing its history. The planet, the pebble, 
goes attended by its shadow. The rolling rock leaves 
its scratches on the mountain, the river its channels in 
the soil, the animal its bones in the stratum, the fern 
and leaf their modest epitaph in the coal. The fallen 
drop makes its sculpture in the sand or stone; not a 
footstep in the snow, or along the ground, but prints, in 
characters more or less lasting, a map of its march ; 
every act of man inscribes itself in the memories of his 
fellows and in his own face. The air is full of sounds, 
the sky of tokens, the ground of memoranda and signa- 
tures, and every object is covered over with hints which 
speak to the intelligent. 

Hugh Miller. 



THE BOY AND THE FROG. 



SEE the frog, the slimy, green frog. 
Dozing away on that old rotten log ; 
Seriously wondering 
What caused the sundering 
Of the tail that he wore when a wee polly wog. 

See the boy, the freckled schoolboy. 
Filled with a wicked love to annoy, 

Watching the frog 

Perched on the log 
With feelings akin to tumultuous joy. 



48 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

See the rock, the hard, flinty rock, 

Which the freckled-faced boy at the frog doth sock, 

Conscious he's sinning. 

Yet gleefully grinning 
At the likely result of its terrible shock. 

See the grass, the treacherous grass. 
Slip from beneath his feet ! Alas ! 

Into the mud 

With a dull thud 
He falls, and rises a slimy mass. 

Now, see the frog, the hilarious frog. 
Dancing a jig on his old rotten log, 

Applying his toes 

To his broad, blunt nose, 
As he laughs at the boy stuck fast in the bog. 

* * * H^ 5ic * 

Look at the switch, the hickory switch, 
Waiting to make that schoolboy twitch. 

When his mother knows 

The state of his clothes 
Won't he raise his voice to its highest pitch? 



NUMBER ONE. 49 

HOMOEOPATHIC SOUP. 



TAKE a robin's leg 
(Mind, the drumstick merely), 
Put it in a tub 

Fill'd with water nearly ; 
Set it out-of-doors, 

In a place that's shady, 
Let it stand a week, — 
(Three days for a lady). 

Drop a spoonful of it 

In a five-pail kettle, 
Which may be made of tin 

Or any baser metal ; 
Fill the kettle up, 

Set it on a boiling, 
Strain the liquor well 

To prevent its oiling. 

One atom add of salt. 

For the thickening one rice kernel, 
And use to light the fire 

"The Homoeopathic Journal." 
Let the liquor boil 

Half-an-hour, no longer. 
If 'tis for a man 

Of course you'll make it stronger. 

Should you now desire 

That the soup be flavory, 
Stir it once around 

With a stalk of savory. 

4 



50 YOUNG folks' Ri:CrTATIO^'S. 

When the broth is made. 

Nothing can excel it; 
Then three times a day 

Let the patient smell it. 
If he chance to die, 

Say 'twas Nature did it ; 
If he chance to live, 

Give the soup the credit. 



LINES TO KATE. 



THERE'S something in the name of Kate, 
Which many will condemn ; 
But listen now while I relate 
The trials of some of them. 

There's advo-Kate, a charming miss ; 

Could you her hand obtain, 
She'll lead you in the path of bliss. 

Nor plead your cause in vain. 

There's deli-Kate, a modest dame. 

And worthy of your love ; 
She's nice and beautiful in frame, 

As gentle as a dove. 

Communi-Kate's intelligent. 

As we may well suppose ; 
Her fruitful mind is ever bent 

On telling what she knows. 

There's intri-Kate; she's so obscure 

'Tis hard to find her out, 
For she is often very sure 

To put your wits to rout. 



NUMBER ONE. 51 

Prevari-Kate's a stubborn mind, 

She's sure to have her way ; 
The cavilling, contrary jade 

Objects to all j^ou say. 

There's alter-Kate, a perfect pest, 

Much given to dispute ; 
Her prattling tongue can never rest ; 

You cannot her refute. 

There's dislo-Kate, quite in a fret. 

Who fails to gain her point; 
Her case is quite unfortunate, 

And sorely out of joint. * 

Equivo-Kate no one will woo, 

The thing would be absurd ; 
She is faithless and untrue. 

You cannot take her word. 

There's vindi-Kate ; she's good and true. 

And strives with all her might 
Her duty faithfully to do, 

And battles for the right. 

There's rusti-Kate, a country lass, 

Quite fond of rural scenes ; 
She likes to ramble through the grasi. 

And through the evergreens. 

Of all the maidens you can find. 

There's none like edu-Kate ; 
Because she elevates the mind. 

And aims for something great. 



52 YOXTNG folks' RECITATIONS. 

GRAND SCHEME OF EMIGRATION, 



THE Brewers should to Malt-a go, 
The Loggerheads to Scilly, 
The Quakers to the Friendly Isles, 
The Furriers all to Chili. 

The little squalling, brawling brats, 

That break our nightly rest, 
Should be packed off to Baby-Ion, 

To Lap-land, or to Brest. 

From Spit-head Cooks go o'er to Greece ; 

And while the Miser waits 
His passage to the Guinea coast, 

Spendthrifts are in the Straits. 

Spinsters should to the Needles go, 

Wine-bibbers to Burgundy ; 
Gourmands should lunch ^-t Sandwich Isles, 

Wags in the Bay of Fundy. 

Musicians hasten to the Sound, 

The surpliced Priest to Rome, 
While still the race of Hypocrites 

At Cant-on are at home. 

Lovers should hasten to Good Hope; 

To some Cape Horn is pain ; 
Debtors should go to Oh i-o. 

And Sailors to the Main-e. 

Hie, Bachelors, to the \ Inited States I 

Maids to the Isle of Man ; 
Let Gardeners go to Botany Bay, 

And Shoeblacks to Japan. 



NUMBER ONE. 



53 



Thus, emigrants and misplaced men 

Will no longer vex ns; 
And all that ar'n't provided for 

Had better go to Texas. 



BRAVE AND TRUE. 



WHATEVER you are, be brave, boys ! 
The liar's a coward and slave, boys 1 
Though clever at ruses, 
And sharp at excuses. 
He's a sneaking and pitiful knave, boys 

Whatever you are, be frank, boys ! 
Tis better than money and rank, boys ; 

Still cleave to the right, 

Be lovers of light, 
Be open, above board, and frank, boys ! 

Whatever you are, be kind, boys ! 
Be gentle in manner and mind, boys; 

The man gentle in mien. 

Words, and temper, I ween, 
Is the gentleman truly refined, boys ! 

But, whatever you are, be true, boys ! 

Be visible through and through, boys ! 
Leave to others the shamming. 
The "greening" and " cramming," 

In fun and in earnest, be true, boys ! 

Henry Dowin'ojr. 



54 YOUXG folks' rfcitatioxs. 

THE COBBLER. 



[This selection may be rendered very effective, if the reader, following 
the meaning oi the text, should imitate the movements of a cobbler, 
bending forward, stitching and fitting, sewing motion, boring a hole, 
sticking in pegs, and hammering with fingers.] 

WANDERING up and down one day, 
I pefeped into a window over the way ; 
And putting his needle through and through, 
There sat the cobbler making a shoe. 

For the world he cares never the whisk of a broom ; 
All he wants is his elbow-room, 
Rap-a-tap-tap, tick-a-tack-too, 
This is the way he makes a shoe. 

Over lasts of wood, his bits of leather 
He stretches and fits, then sews together ; 
He puts his waxed-ends through and through, 
And still as he stitches, hia body goes too. 

For the world he cares never the whisk of a broom ; 
All he want3 is his elbow-room, 
Rap-a-tap-tap, tick-a-tack-too, 
This is the way he makes a shoe. 

With his little sharp awl he makes a hole 

Right through the upper and through the sole 

He puts in one peg, or he puts in two. 

And chuckles and laughs as he hammers them through. 

For the world he cares never the whisk of a broom ; 
All he wants is his elbow-room, 
Rap-a-tap-tap, tick-a-tack-too. 
This is the way he makes a shoe. 



XrMBKR ONE. 

WHAT'S THE MATTER? 



55 



I WONDER if the little birds 
That soar above my head 
Are scolded all the sunny day. 
And then sent off to bed ? 

I almost wish I was a bird, 

And had a pair of wings ; 
I'd fly away from this dull place 

And all these stupid things. 

There's always such a dreadful fuss 

If I do what I've a mind; 
Mother looks bo sorrowful, 

I half wish I were blind. 

I'm sure 'tis not bo very wrong 

For girls to like to play ; 
I don't know why they want us to 

Be studying all day. 

I haven't learned my lesson yet. 
Or sewed that horrid seam ; 

I've broke my doll and sent my swing 
Above the highest beam. 

Everything is going wrong, 

And has been all the day. 
I hate to work, and seems to me 

I almost hate to play. 

I wonder why I feel so cross . 

When mother is so kind ; 
She sighs and speaks so very low 

When I don't want to mind. 



56 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

I am a naughty, willful girl — 

I know it all the while; 
I'll run and tell dear mother so. 

And then how soon she'll smile. 

And if I live to see the sun 

Upon another day, 
I'll find my highest happiness 

In a less selfish way. H. K. P. 



PEACEABLE SECESSION. 



SECESSION! Peaceable secession! Sir, your cye» 
and mine are never destined to see that miracle! 
The dismemberment of this vast country without con- 
vulsion ! The breaking up of the fountains of the great 
deep without ruffling the surface! Who is so foolish — 
I beg everybody's pardon — as to expect to see any such 
thing? 

Sir, he who sees these States now revolving in harmony 
around a common centre, and expects to see them quit 
their places, and fly ofi* without convulsion, may look 
the next hour to see the heavenly bodies rush from their 
spheres and jostle against each other in the realms of 
space without causing the crush of the universe. There 
can be no such thing as peaceable secession. Peaceable 
secession is an utter impossibility. 

Is the great Constitution under which we live, cover- 
ing this whole country — is it to be thawed and melted 
away by secession, as the snows on the mountain melt 
under the influence of a vernal sun, disappear almost 
unobserved and run off? No, sir ! No, sir ! I will not 




^^^p^^^-v^-:\i'^f.z T'r - -, , 



-,'^,-'r, 






NUMBL'Il OXE. 57 

state what might produce the disruption of the Union ; 
but, sir, I see as plainly as I see the sun in heaven, what 
that disruption itself must produce ; I see that it must 
jproduce war, and such a war as I will not describe in 
its twofold character. 

Webster, 



BABY'S SOLILOQUY. 



[The following selection can be made very humorous if the person 
reading it assumes the tones of a very" little child, and in appropriate 
places imitates the cry of a baby.] 

I AM here. And if this is what they call the worldj^ 
I don't think much of it. It's a very flannel ly 
world, and smells of paregoric awfully. It's a dreadful 
light world, too, and makes me blink, I tell you. And 
I don't know what to do with my hands ; I think I'll 
dig my fists in my eyes. No, I won't. I'll scratch at 
the corner of my blanket and chew it up, and then I'll 
holler; whatever happens, I'll holler. And the more 
paregoric they give me, the louder I'll yell. That old 
nurse puts the spoon in the corner of my mouth, side- 
wise like, and keeps tasting my milk herself all the 
while. She spilt snuff in it last night, and when I 
hollered she trotted me. That comes of being a two- 
days-old baby. Never mind; when I'm a man, I'll pay 
her back good. There's a pin sticking in me now, and 
if I say a word about it, I'll be trotted or fed ; and I 
would rather have catnip-tea. I'll tell you who I am. 
I found out to-day. I heard folks say, " Hush ! don't 
wake up Emeline's baby ; and I suppose that pretty, 
white-faced woman over on the pillow is Emeline, 



58 YOUNG FOLKS RECITATIONS. 

No, I was mistaken ; for a chap was in here just now 
and wanted to see Bob's baby ; and looked at me and 
said I was a funny little toad, and looked just like Bob. 
He smelt of cigars. I wonder who else I belong to! 
Yes, there's anotker one — that's "Gamma." "It was 
Gamma's baby, so it was." I declare, I do not know 
who I belong to ; but I'll holler, and maybe I'll find 
out. There comes snufiy with catuip-tea. I'm going to 
sleep. I wonder why my hands won't go where I want 
them to ! 



A TRIBUTE TO WATER. 



WHERE is the liquor which God the eternal brews 
for all His children ? Not in the simmering still, 
over smoky fires choked with poisonous gases, and sur- 
rounded with the stench of sickening odors and rank 
corruptions, doth your Father in heaven prepare the 
precious essence of life — the pure cold water. But iu 
the green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer 
wanders, and the child loves to play, there God brews 
it. And down, low down in the deepest valleys, where 
the fountains murmur and the rills sing; and high upon 
the tall mountain tops, where the naked granite glitters 
like gold in the sun ; where the storm-cloud broods, and 
the thunder-storms crash ; and away far out on the wide, 
wild sea, where the hurricane howls music, and the big 
waves roar, the chorus sweeping the march of God: 
there He brews it — that beverage of life and health- 
giving water. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty ; 
gleaming in the dew-drop, singing in the summer rain, 
shining in the ice-gem till the leaves all seemed turned 



NUMBER ONE. 59 

to living jewels, spreading a golden veil over the setting 
sun, or a white gauze around the midnight moon. 

Sporting in the cataract; sleeping in the glacier; 
dancing in the hail-shower; folding its bright snow cur- 
tains softly about the wintry world ; and waving the 
many- colored iris, that seraph's zone of the sky, whose 
warp is the rain-drop of earth, whose woof is the sun- 
beam of heaven; all chequered over with celestial 
flowers by the mystic baud of refraction. 

Still always it is beautiful, that life-giving water ; no 
poison bubbles on its brink ; its foam brings not mad- 
ness and murder ; no blood stains its liquid glass ; pale 
widows and starving orphans weep no burning tears in 
its depths ; no drunken shrieking ghost from the grave 
curses it in the words of eternal despair. Speak, my 
friends, would you exchange it for demon's drink, 
alcohol? 

John B. Gough. 



GRANDPAPA'S SPECTACLES. 



GRANDPAPA'S spectacles cannot be found ! 
He has searched all the rooms, high and low, round 
and round ; * 

Now he calls to the young ones, and what does he say 1 
"Ten cents" to the child who will find them to-day. 

Then Harry and Nelly and Edward all ran. 

And a most thorough search for the glasses began. 

And dear little Nell in her generous way 

Said, " I'll look for them, Grandpa, without any pay." 






60 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

All through the big Bible she searched with care. 
It lies on the table by Granpapa's chair. 
They feel in his pockets, they peep in his hat, 
They pull out the sofa and shake out the mat. 

Then down on the floor, like good-natured bears, 
Go Harry and Ned under tables and chairs, 
Till quite out of breath, Ned is heard to declare. 
He believed that those glasses are not anywhere. 

But Nelly, who, leaning on Grandpapa's knee. 

Was thinking most earnestly, '' where can they be V 

Looked suddenly up in the kind, faded eyes. 

And her own shining brown ones grew big with surprise 

She clapped with her hands, all her dimples came out. 
She turned to the boys with a bright, roguish shout, 
" You may leave off your looking, both Harry and Ned, 
For there are the glasses on Grandpapa's head." 



SIN. 

TTSE sin as it will use you ; spare it not, for it will 
vJ not spare you ; it is your murderer, and the mur- 
derer of the world ; use it, therefore, as a murderer 
should be used. Kill it before it kills you ; and though 
it kill your bodies, it shall not be able to kill your souls ; 
and though it bring you to the grave, as it did your 
Head, it shall not be able to keep you there. 

Baxter. 



NUMBEPw ONE. 61 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SECOND. 



IN seventeen hundred thirty-two, 
This very month and day, 
Winking and blinking at the light, 
A little babj- lay. 

No doubt they thought the little man 

A goodly child enough ; 
But time has proved that he was made 

Of most uncommon stuff. 

The little babe became a man 

That everybody knew 
Would finish well what he began, 

And prove both firm and true. 

So when the Revolution came, 

That made our nation free, 
They couldn't find a better man 

For general, you see. 

As general, he never failed 
Or faltered ; so they thought 

He ought to be the President, 
And so I'm sure he ought. 

And then he did his part so well 

As President — 'twas plain 
They couldn't do a better thing 

Than choose him yet again. 

Through all his life they loved him well, 
And mourned him when he died ; 

And ever since his noble name 
Has been our nation's pride. 



i 



62 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

The lesson of his life is clear, 

And easy quite to guess, 
Be firm and true, if you would make 

Your life a grand success. 

Joy Allison. 



THE STOLEN CUSTARD. 



S' 



tUGAR-TOOTHED Dick 
For dainties was sick, 
So he slyly stole into the kitchen, 

Snatched a cup from the pantry, 
And darted out quick. 
Unnoticed by mother or Gretchen. 

Whispered he, " There's no cake, 

For to-morrow they bake, 
But this custard looks rich and delicious; 

How they'll scold at the rats. 

Or the mice, or the cats ; 
For of me I don't think they're suspicious. 

"They might have filled up 
Such a mean little cup ! 
And for want of a spoon I must drink it: 
m But 'tis easy to pour — 

Hark! who's at the door?" 
And the custard went down ere you'd think it. 

With a shriek he sprang up ; 

To the floor dashed the cup; 
Then he howled, tumbled, sputtered, and blustered, 

Till the terrible din 

Brought the whole household in — 
He had swallowed a cupful of mustard I 



NUMBER ONE. 63 

SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. 



THE woman was old, and ragged, and gray. 
And bent with the chill of a winter's day; 
The streets were white with a recent snow, 
And the woman's feet with age were slow. 

At the crowded crossing she waited long, 
Jostled aside by the careless throng 
Of human beings who passed her by. 
Unheeding the glaoce of her anxious eye. 

Down the street with laughter and shout, 
Clad in the freedom of " school let out," 
Come happy boys, like a flock of sheep, 
Hailing the snow piled white and deep; 
Past the woman, so old and gray, 
Hastened the children on their way. 

None offered a helping hand to her. 

So weak and timid, afraid to stir, 

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet 

Should trample her down in the slippery street 

At last came out of the merry troop 
The gayest boy of all the group ; 
He paused beside her, and whispered low, 
" I'll help you across, if you wish to go." 

Her aged hand on his strong young arm 
She placed, and so without hurt or harm, 
He guided the trembling feet along, 
Proud that his own were young and strong; 
Then back again to his friends he went. 
His young heart happy and well content. 



64 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know, 
For all she's aged, aud poor, and slow ; 
And some one, some time, may lend a hand 
To help my mother — you understand? — 
If ever she's poor, and old, and gray, 
And her own dear boy so far away." 

"Somebody's mother" bowed low her head. 
In her home that night, and the prayer she said 
Was: "God, be kind to that noble boy, 
Who is somebody's son, and pride, and joy." 

Faint was the voice, and worn and weak, 
But the Father hears when His children speak ; 
Angels caught the faltering word. 
And "Somebody's Mother's" prayer was heard. 

Macmillan. 



WILLIE'S BREECHES. 



I'M just a little boy, you know. 
And hardly can remember. 
When people ask how old I am, 
To tell 'em four last 'vember. 
And yet for all I am so small, 

I made so many stitches 
For mamma's fingers, that she put 
Her little boy in breeches. 

You may be sure that I was glad ; 

I marched right up and kissed her, 
Then gave my bibs and petticoats, 

And all, to baby sister. 



NUMBER ONE. 65 

I never whine, now I'm so fine. 

And don't get into messes ; 
For mamma says, if I am bad, 

She'll put me back in dresses ! 

There's buttons up and down my leg«. 

And buttons on my jacket; 
I'd count 'em all, but baby makes 

Just now, an awful racket. 
She's sitting there, behind the chair, 

With blocks, and dolls, and kitty, 
A playing "gp to gran'ma's house," 

Alone, 'n that's a pity. 

I think I'll go and help her some, 

I'm sure it would amuse me ; 
So I won't bother any more 

To talk— if you'll excuse me- 
But first I'll stand before the glass, 

From top to toe it reaches : 
Now look! there's head, and hands, and feet, 

But all the rest is breeches! 

Etta G. Salsbury. 



WORK. 

THERE is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, 
in work. Were he ever so benighted, or forgetful of 
his high calling, there is always hope in a man that actually 
and earnestly works ; in idleness alone there is perpetual 
despair. Consider how, even in the meanest sorts of 
labor, the whole soul of a man is composed into real 
6 






GS YOUNG folks' recitations. 

harmony. He bends himself with free valor against his 
task; and doubt, desire, sorrow, remorse, indignation, 
despair itself, shrink murmuring far off in their caves. 
The glow of labor in him is a purifying fire, wherein all 
poison is burned up ; and of smoke itself there is made 
a bright and blessed flame. 

Blessed is he who has found his work ; let him ask no 
other blessedness ; he has a life purpose. Labor is life. 
From the heart of the worker rises the celestial force, 
breathed into him by Almighty God, awakening him 
to all nobleness, to all knowledge. Hast thou valued 
patience, courage, openness to light, or readiness to own 
thy mistakes ? In wrestling with the dim brute powers 
of fact thou wilt continually learn. For every noble 
work the possibilities are diffused through immensity, 
undiscoverable, except to faith. 

Man, sou of heaven ! is there not in thine inmost 
heart a spirit of active method, giving thee no rest till 
thou unfold it? Complain not Look up. See thy 
fellow-workmen surviving through eternity, the sacred 
band of immortals. 

Thomas Carlyle. 



LOVELINESS. 



OlsrCE I knew a little girl. 
Very plain ; 
You might try her hair to curl 

All in vain ; 
On her cheek no tint of rose 
Paled and blushed, or sought repose; 
She was plain. 



NUMBER ONE. 67 

But the thoughts that through her brain 

Came and went, 
As a recompense for pain, 

Angels sent ; 
So full many a beauteous thing, 
In her young soul blossoming. 

Gave content. 

Every thought was full of grace, 

Pure and true, 
And in time the homely face 

Lovelier grew ; 
With a heavenly radiance bright, 
From the soul's reflected light 

Shining through. 

So I tell you, little child. 

Plain or poor, 
If your thoughts are undefiled, 

You are sure 
Of the loveliness of worth ; 
And this beauty not of earth 

Will endure. 

Maria Lacet. 



BEING A BOY. 



ONE of the best things in the world to be is a boy ; 
it requires no experience, though it needs some 
practice to be a good one. The disadvantage of the 
position is that he does not last long enough. It is soon 
over. Just as you get used to being a boy, you have to 
be something else, with a good deal more work to do 



■Ir'v^^irfP^ 



68 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

and not half so much fun. And yet every boy is anxious 
to be a man, and is very uneasy with the restrictions 
that are put upon him as a boy. There are sb many 
bright spots in the life of a farm boy that I sometimes 
think I should like to live the life over again. I should 
almost be willing to be a girl if it were not for the 
chores. There is a great comfort to a boy in the amount 
of work he can get rid of doing. It is sometimes aston- 
ishing how slow he can go on an errand. Perhaps he 
couldn't explain, himself, why, when he is sent to the 
neighbor's after yeast, he stops to stone the frogs. He 
is not exactly cruel, but he wants to see if he can hit 
'em. It is a curious fact about boys, that two will be a 
great deal slower in doing anything than one. Boys 
have a great power of helping each other do nothing. 
But say what you will about the general usefulness of 
boys, a farm without a boy would very soon come to 
grief. He is always in demand. In the first place, he 
is to do all the errands, go to the store, the post-office, 
and to carry all sorts of messages. He would like to 
have as many legs as a wheel has spokes, and rotate 
about in the same way. This he sometimes tries to do, 
and people who have seen him "turning cart-wheels" 
along the side of the road have supposed he was amus- 
ing himself and idling his time. He was only trying 
to invent a new mode of locomotion, so that he could 
economize his legs and do his errands with greater dis- 
patch. Leap-frog is one of his methods of getting over 
the ground quickly. He has a natural genius for com- 
bining pleasure with business. 

Charles Dudley Warner. 






NUMBER ONE. 

WE MUST ALL SCRATCH. 



SAID the first little chicken, 
With a queer little squirm, 
" I wish I could find 
A fat little worm." 

Said the next little chicken, 
AVith an odd little shrug, 

" I wish I could find 
A fat little bug." 

Said the third little chicken. 
With a sharp little squeal, 

" I wish I could find 
Some nice yellow meal." 

Said the fourth little chicken, 
With a small sigh of grief, 

" I wish I could find 
A green little leaf." 

Said the fifth little chicken, 
With a faint little moan, 

** I wish I could find 
A wee gravel stone." 

** Now, see here," said the mother, 
From the green garden patch, 

" If you want any breakfast, 
Just come here and scratch." 



69 



m^M^ 



70 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

BLOWING BUBBLES. 



WHERE the grass had been newly mown, 
Before a rustic cottage home, 
An idle schoolboy strolled away, 
To waste his time in childish play. 

The school-bell rang, but there stood he, 
Happy as ever boy could be, 
Free from books, and schoolboy troubles. 
With grandpa's pipe, blowing bubbles. 

Away went bubbles, thick and fast. 
Like sparks from out a furnace blast, 
His eyes as large as saucers grew. 
As higher up the bubbles flew. 

With outstretched mouth and beaming eyes. 
He watched them, mounting toward the skies. 
And shook all over with delight. 
To see them vanish out of sight. 

While Conrad thus his time employed. 
His grandpapa was much annoyed ; 
When from a nap he soon awoke. 
And rose to take his wonted smoke. 

He seized his stout " Old Hickory" cane, 
Went quick to where his pipe had lain, 
But looked the picture of despair. 
To find the pipe no longer there. 



KUMBER ONE. 71 

In every nook and corner then, 
Through all the rooms, where he had been. 
He went to work with vigorous mind, 
Its secret hiding-place to find. 

He put his glasses on his nose, 
Old-fashioned " specs " with iron bows, 
Then turned about, and looked again, 
Where he had looked before in vain. 

But when his pipe could not be found, 
His groans were heard the house around, 
While, sad to tell, his pet grandchild 
Was blowing bubbles all this while. 

That good old face, superbly hale. 
Suddenly turned to ghastly pale ; 
He staggered back upon his bed, 
Where Conrad came, and found him dead. 

The doctors all at once agreed 
That he had died (if dead indeed) 
From causes to themselves unknown, 
" Unless the want of smoke alone," 

In yonder church-yard, down the lane, 
A tombstone stands, with grandpa's name. 
Where all old smokers well can see 
How sad a fate their own may be. 

That marble shaft, erect and trim. 
Bears on its side Death's face so grim, 
With broken pipe carved underneath. 
And these few words " in bass-relief;" 






72 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

**For want of smoke, this old man died, 
Of all things else he had enough ; 

His good wife rests here by his side, 
Who died of using too much snuff." 

Rev. O. F. Starkey. 



WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN. 



WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in 
the shock, 
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' 

turkey cock, 
And the clackin' of the guineys and the cluckin' of the 

hens. 
And the rooster's hallylooyer, as he tiptoes on the fence, 
Oh ! it's then the time a feller is a feelin' at his best, 
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of gracious 

rest. 
As he leaves the house bareheaded, and goes out to feed 

the stock, 
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the 

shock. 

They's somepin kind o' heartylike about the atmos- 
phere 

When the heat of summer's over and the coolin'.fall is 
here — 

Of course we miss the flowers and the blossoms on the 
trees, 

And the mumble of the hummin' birds, and buzzin' of 
the bees ; 



NUMBER ONE. * 



73 



But the air^s so appetizin', and the land^ra^ .hrough 

the haze 
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the eMfy iiiti^jan days 
Is a picture that no painter has the ccJorin' to mock — 
When the frost is on the punkin anJ the fodder's in the 

shock. 

The husky, rusty rustle of the tossei^s of the corn, 
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the 

morn ; 
The stubble in the furries, tiDu o' lonesome like, but 

still 
A preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to 

fill; 
The strawstack in the medder and the reaper in the 

shed ; 
The bosses in the stalls below, the clover overhead ; 
Oh ! it sets my heart a clickin', like the tickin' of a clock. 
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the 

shock ! 



AMERICA'S OBLIGATIONS TO ENGLAND. 



THE honorable gentleman has asked : " And now, will 
these Americans, children planted by our care, 
nourished up by our indulgence and protected by our 
arms — will they grudge to contribute their mite T* 

They planted by your care? No, your oppressions 
planted them in America ! They fled from your tyranny 
to a then uncultivated and inhospitable country. There 
they exposed themselves to almost all the hardships to 
which human nature is liable. 



74 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

They nourished up by your indulgence? They grew 
by your neglect of them. As soon as you began to care 
about them, that care was exercised in sending persons 
to rule them, to spy out their liberties, to misrepresent 
their actions, to prey upon their substance. 

They protected by your arms? They have nobly 
taken up arms in your defense — have exerted their valor 
for your own emolument. And believe me — remember 
I this day told you so — that same spirit of freedom 
which actuated these Americans at first will accompany 
them still. They are now as truly loyal as any subjects 
the King has, but they are a people jealous of their 
liberties, and a people who will vindicate those liberties 
to the last drop of their blood. 

Colonel Babre. 



PLANTING HIMSELF TO GROW. 



DEAR little, bright-eyed Willie, 
Always so full of glee. 
Always so very mischievous, 
The pride of our home is he. 

One bright summer day we found him 

Close by the garden wall, 
Standing so grave and dignified 

Beside a sunflower tall. 

His tiny feet he had covered 

With the moist and cooling saiid ; 

The stalk of the great, tall sunflower 
He grasped with his chubby hand. 



NUMBER ONE. 75 

When he saw us standing near him, 

Gazing so wonderiugly 
At his babyship, he greeted us 

With a merry shout of glee. 

We asked our darling what pleased him ; 

He replied, with a face aglow, 
** Mamma, I'm going to be a man ; 

I've planted myself to grow," 



DIGNITY IN LABOR. 



IN the search after true dignity, you may point me to 
the sceptred prince, ruling over mighty empires, to 
the lord of broad acres teeming with fertility, or the 
ow^ner of coffers bursting with gold ; you may tell me of 
them or of learning, of the historian or of the philoso- 
pher, the poet or the artist, and, while prompt to render 
such men all the honor which in varying degrees may 
be their due, I would emphatically declare that if&ither 
power nor nobility, nor wealth, nor learning, nor genius, 
nor benevolence, nor all combined, have a monopoly of 
dignity. I would take you to the dingy office, where 
day by day the pen plies its weary task ; or to the shop, 
where from early morning till half the world have 
sunk to sleep, the necessities and luxuries of life are 
distributed, with scarce an interval for food, and none 
for thought; I would descend farther, I would take 
you to the plowman, plodding along his furrows ; to the 
mechanic, throwing the swift shuttle or tending the busy 
wheels; to the miner, groping his darksome way in the 
deep caverns of earth ; to the man of the trowel, the 



76 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

hammer, or the forge, and if, while he diligently prose- 
cutes his humble toil, he looks up with a brave heart 
and loving eye to heaven — if in what he does he recog- 
nizes his God, and expects his wages from on high — ^if, 
Vhile thus laboring on earth, he anticipates the rest of 
heaven, and can say, as did a poor man once, who, when 
pitied on account of humble lot, said, taking off his hat, 
"Sir, I am the son of a King, I am a child of God, and 
when I die, angels will carry me from this Union Work- 
house direct to the Court of Heaven." Then, having 
shown you such a spectacle, may I not ask — Is there 
not dignity in labor ? 

Newman Hall. 



WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, BABY? 

"TT7HERE did you come from, baby dear?" 
T » "Out of the every-where into the here."* 
**Wnere did you get your eyes so blue?" 
"Out of the sky as I came through," 

"What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?" 
"Some of the starry spikes left in." 
"Where did you get that little tear?" 
"I found it waiting when I got here." 

"What makes your forehead so smooth and high?" 
"A soft hand stroked it as I went by." 
**What makes your cheek like a warm white roser' 
"Something better than any one knows." 



NUMBER ONE. 77 

*' Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ?" 
" Three angels gave me at once a kiss." 
" Where did you get that pearly ear ?" 
" God spoke, and it came out to hear." 

" Where did you get those arms and hands ?" 
" Love made itself into hooks and bands." 
" Feet, whence did you come, you darling things ?" 
*'From the same body as the cherubs' wings." 

"How did they all just come to be you ?" 
"God thought about me, and so I grew." 
"But how did you come to us, my dear?" 
*Gk)d thought of you, and so I am here." 

George Macdonaldw 



A LITTLE BOY'S TROUBLES. 



I THOUGHT when I'd learned my letters 
That all of my troubles were done; 
But I find.myself much mistaken — 

They only have just begun. 
Learning to read was awful, 

But nothing like learning to write ; 
I'd be sorry to have you tell it, 
But my copy-book is a sight! 

The ink gets over my fingers ; 

The pen cuts all sorts of shines, 
And won't do at all as I bid it ; 

lau letters won't stay on the linea^ 



78 YOUNG folks' eecitations. 

But go up and down and all over, 
As though they were dancing a jig — 

They are there in all shapes and sizes, 
Medium, little, and big. 



The tails of the g's are so contrary. 

The handles get on the wrong side 
Of the d's, and the k's, and the h's. 

Though I've certainly tried and tried 
To make them just right; it is dreadful, 

I really don't know what to do, 
I'm getting almost distracted — 

My teacher says she is too. 

There'd be some comfort in learning j 

If one could get through : instead , 

Of that there are books awaiting * 

Quite enough to craze my head. ; 

There's the multiplication table, j 

And grammar, and — oh ! dear me, 1 

There's no good place for stopping * 

When one has begun, I see. ^ 

My teacher says, little by little • j 

To the mountain tops we climb; \ 

It isn't all done in a minute, \ 

But only a step at a time ; j 

She says that all the scholars, 1 

All the wise and learned men. 

Had each to begin as I do ; \ 

If that's so, Where's my pen ? i 

Carlotta Perbt, i 



NUMBER ONE. 79 

NOTES FEOM A BATTLE-FIELD. 



'■•:1 



THE farmer and the farmer's wife 
A setting hen defied, 
And for awhile glad victory seemed 
To crown the aggressor's side. 

The coach-house was the battle-field^ 

And Biddy's will was firm, 
Within its sacred precincts there 

To serve her little term. 

What though they shut the woodshed d^^***^ 
And showed her there a nest — 

Filled to the very brim with eggs — 
To soothe her ruffled breast. 

This Biddy knew a thing or two. 

And, from a window high, 
Back to her chosen nest again 

Triumphantly did fly ! 

'Twas shoo ! here, and shoo ! there, 
And shriek, aiyi squawk, and flutter, 

Until that peaceful farm was filled 
With noises just too utter ! 

The angry farmer lost his wits, 

The wife her apron shook. 
And all because this setting hen 

Had such determined look. 

They poked her, they punched her; 

They breathed in accents dire ; 
But yet that fussy feathered fowl 

Her purpose kept entire. 



^0 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

And even though a wagon-pole 

Was brandished at a pinch, 
They could not scare nor terrify 

Nor budge that hen an inch. 

At last the farmer charged the hen, 
But punched a mild-eyed cow, 

Who poked the horse, who kicked the pig, 
Who raised a dreadfiil row. 

Th* pig broke out and found his way 

Down to the garden bed. 
And followed on his martial heels 

The horse with frantic tread. 

They visited the rows of beets, 

The hills of ear ly^ corn. 
The hot-beds and the lettuce-beds, 

And left them all forlorn. 

And all that day, and all next week. 

The farmer did repair ; 
His woodshed door is fastened still, 

But Biddy is not there. 

Look for her in the carriage-house. 

Where, prickly as a thistle. 
That setting hen is sitting yet, 

In one perpetual bristle. 

The farmer and the farmer's wife 

At last have had to yield. 
And Biddy sits victorious 

Upon that battle-field. 



nu.^jbi:r ONfi. 81 

O fickle goddess Victory ! 

To thus desert us men, 
And give the plume of conqueror 

To keeping of a hen ! 

Dear me ! what are we coming to, 

To thus disgrace our sires ? 
What shall we tell posterity 

If any one inquires ? 

S. C. Stone. 



THREE GOOD DOCTORS. 



THE best of all the pilf-box crew 
Since ever time began, 
Are the doctors who have most to do 
With the health of a hearty man. 

And so I count them up again, 

And praise them as I can ; 
There's Dr. Diet, and Dr. Quiet, 

And Dr. Merryman. 

There's Dr. Diet, he tries my tongue, 

" I know you well," says he ; 
* Your stomach is poor, and your liver is sprung; 

We must make your food agree." 

And Dr. Quiet, he feels my wrist, 

And he gravely shakes his head, 
** Now, now, dear sir, I must insist 

That you go at ten to bed^" 
6 



^:s(my 



82 YOUNG folks' Rl citations. 

But Dr. Merryman for me, 

Of all the pill-box crew ! 
For he smiles and says, as he fobs his fee, 

" Laugh on, whatever you do !'' 

So now I eat what I ought to eat, 

And at ten I go to bed. 
And I laugh in the face of cold or heat ; 

For thus have the doctors said ! 

And so I count them up again, 

And praise them as I can ; 
There's Dr. Diet, and Dr. Quiet, 

And Dr. Merryman. 

S. W. DUFFIELD, D. D 



ON CONQUERING AMERICA. 



YOU cannot, I venture to say, you cannot conquer 
America. Your armies in the last war effected 
everything that could be effected, and what was it? 
What is your present situation ? We do not know the 
worst, but we know that in seven campaigns we have 
done nothing and suffered much. . 

As to conquest, therefore, I repeat it, that is impos- 
sible. You may swell every effort and every expense 
still more extravagantly; pile and accumulate every 
assistance you can buy or borrow ; traffic and barter 
with evefy little pitiful Oerman prince that sells and 
sends his subjects to the shambles of a foreign country : 
your efforts are forever impotent and vain. 

They are doubly impotent and vain from this mer- 



KUMBER ONE. 83 

cenary aid on which you rely ; for it irritates, to an in- 
curable resentment, the minds of your enemies to over- 
run them with the sordid sons of rapine and of plunder, 
devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of 
hireling cruelty. 

If I were an American, as lam an Englishman, while 
a foreign troop was lauded in my country, I never 
would lay down my arms — never ! never ! never ! 

Lord Chatham. 



THE i:n^dian brave. 



I AM fresh from the conflict — I'm drunk with the blood 
Of the white men, who chased me o'er prairie and 

flood, 
Till I trapped them at last, and exultingly swore 
That my fearless red warriors should revel in gore! 
I have well kept my oath, O Manitou, the Just! 
Three hundred white hirelings are low in the dust. 
The unequal conflict was bloody and brief. 
And they weep for their men and their golden-haired 

chief 

I hate the palefaces! I'll fight to the death 
While the prairies are mine, and a warrior has breath ! 
By the bones of our fathers, whose ruin they wrought, 
When they first trod our land, and for sympathy 

sought — 
By the souls of our slain, when our villages burned — 
By all the black vices our people have learned, 
No season of rest shall my enemies see. 
Till the earth drinks my blood, or my people are free 

Francis S. Smith 



84 YOUNG folks' rvECITATTONS. 

JOHNNY'S POCKET. 



i 



DO you know what's in my pottet? 
Such a lot o' treasures in it ! 
Listen, now, while I bedin it ; 
Such a lot o* sings it hold. 
And all there is you sail be told — 
Everysin' dat's in my pottet, 
And when, and where, and how I dot it. 

\ 
First of all, here's in my pottet ' 

A beauty shell; I picked it up ; ; 

And here's the handle of a cup 

That somebody has broke at tea ; 

The shell's a hole in it, you see; 
Nobody knows that I have dot it, 
I keep it safe here in my pottet. 

And here's my ball, too, in my pottet. 
And here's my pennies, one, two, three, 
That Aunt Mary gave to me; 
To-morrow day I'il buy a spade, 
When I'm out walking with the maid. 

I can't put dat here in my pottet. 

But I can use it when I've dot it. 

Here's some more sin's in my pottet ; 

Here's my lead, and here's my string, 

And once I had an iron ring, 

But through a hole it lost one day ; 

And here is what I always say — 
A hole's the worst sin in a pottet — 
Have it mended when you've dot it. 



Nu:MBErw ONE. 85 

SIX O'CLOCK P.M. 



THE workshops open wide their doors 
At six o'clock p. M., 
And workmen issue forth by scores 

At six o' clock p. M. 
Of all the minutes in array, 
Or hours that go to make the day, 
There's none so welcome, so they say, 
As six o'clock p. m. 

How many children show delight 

At six o'clock p. M., 
How many homes are rendered bright 

At six o'clock p. M. 
How many little happy feet 
Go out into the busy street. 
With joyous bounds papa to meet. 

At six o'clock p. M. 

Thousands of tables draped in whit« 

At six o'clock p. M., 
The gathered families invite 

At six o'clock p. M. 
And as they eat the frugal fare, 
They quite forget their toil and care, 
And drop their heavy burdens there, 

At six o'clock p. M. 

Then blow, ye shrieking whistles, blow I 

At six o'clock p. M., 
King out, releasing bells, ring out I 
And bid the welkin take the shout. 
And echo it all round about, 

"'Tis six o'clock P.M." 



86 YOUNG folks' eecitations. 

A SOLLUM FAC. 



A WERRY funny feller is de ole plantation mule ; 
J^ Au' nobody'll piay wid him unless he is a fool. 
De bestest ting to do w'en you meditates about him, 
Is to kinder sorter calkerlate you'll get along widout him. 

Wen you try to 'proach dat mule from de front endwise, 
He look as meek as Moses, but his looks is full ob lies ; 
He doesn't move a muscle, he doesn't even wink ; 
An' you say his dispersition's better'n people tink. 

He Stan' so still you s'pose he is a monument of grace ; 
An' you almos' see a 'nevolent expression on his face; 
But dat 'nevolent expression is de mask dat's allers worn ; 
For ole Satan is behin' it jest as sure as you is born. 

Den you cosset him a little, an' you pat his other end, 
An' you has a reverlation dat he aint so much your 

friend ; 
You has made a big mistake; but before de heart 

repents, 
You is histed werry sudden to de odder side de fence. 

Well, you feel like you'd been standin' on de locomotive 

track 
An' de engine come an' hit you in de middle ob de back ; 
You don' know wat has happened, you can scarcely 

cotch your breff; 
But you tink you've made de 'quaintance ob a werry 

vi'lent deff. 

Kow a sin in de soul is percisely like de mule ; 
An' nobodyll play wid it, unless he is 3 fool. 
It looks so mitey innercent; but honey, dear, beware! 
For although de kick is hidden, de kick is allers there. 



NUMBER ONE. 

THE LITTLE LIGHT. 



THE light shone dim on the headland, 
For the storm was raging high ; 
I shaded my eyes from the inner glare, 

And gazed on the west, gray sky. 
It was dark and lowering ; on the sea 

The waves were booming loud, 
And the snow and the piercing winter sleet 
Wove over all a shroud. 

" God pity the men on the sea to-night !" 

I said to my little ones, 
And we shuddered as we heard afar 

The sound of minute-guns. 
My good man came in, in his fishing coat 

(He was wet and cold that night), 
And he said, " There'll lots of ships go down 

On the headland rocks to-night." 

" Let the lamp burn all night, mother," 

Cried little Mary then ; 
"'Tis but a little light, but still 

It might save drowning men." 
Oh ! nonsense !" cried her father (he 

Was tired and cross that night), 
" Th« headland lighthouse is enough." 

And he put out the light. 

That night, on the rocks below us, 

A noble ship went down, 
But one was saved from the ghastly wreck. 

The rest were left to drown. 



88 YOUNG folks' RECrTATTOXS. 

"We steered by a little light,'' he said, 
" Till we saw it sink from view ; 

If they'd only ^a left that light all night 
My mates might have been here, tool" 

Then little Mary sobbed aloud ; 

Her father blushed for shame ; 
" 'Twas our light that you saw," he said, 

" And I'm the ane to blame." 
Twas a little light — ^how small a thing ! 

And trifling was its cost. 
Yet for want of it a ship went down. 

And a hundred souls were lost. 



THE BIRD AND THE BABY. 



WHAT does little birdie say 
In her nest Sitjpeep of day ? 
Let me fly, says little birdie, 
Mother, let me fly away. 
Birdie, rest a little longer. 
Till the little wings are stronger. 
So it rests a little longer. 
Then it flies away. 

What does little baby say 
In her bed at peep of day ? 
Baby says, like little birdie. 
Let me rise and fly away. 
Baby, sleep a little longer, 
Till the little wings are stronger. 
If she sleeps a little longer, 
Baby too shall fly away. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



NUMBER ONE. 89 

THR EETURN FROM BATTLE. 



10! they come, they come! garlands for every shrine! 
Strike lyres to greet them homo ! bring roses, pour 
ye wine ! 

Swell, swell the Dorian lute through the blue, triumph- 
ant sky ! 

Let the cittern's tone salute the sons of victory. 

With the offering of bright blood they have ransomed 
hearth and tomb, 

Vineyard, and field, and flood. lo! they come, they 
come ! 

Sing it where olives wave, and by the glittering sea. 
And o'er each hero's grave, sing, sing, the land is free! 
Mark ye the flashing oars, and the spears that light the 

deep ! 
How the festal sunshine pours where the lords of battle 

sweep ! 
Each hath brought back his shield ; maid, greet thy 

lover home ! 
Mother, from that proud field, lo ! thy son is come ! 

Who murmured of the dead? Hush, boding voice! 

We know 
That many a shining head lies in its glory low. 
Breathe not those names to-day ! They shall have their 

praise ere long. 
With a power all hearts to sway, in ever-burning song. 
But now shed flowers, pour wine, to hail the conquerors 

home; 
Bring wreaths for every shrine. lo ! they come, they 

come! 



THE AMERICAN FLAG. 



THE flag of the Union — what precious associations 
cluster around it ! Not only have our fathers set up 
this banner in the name of God over the well-won battle- 
fields of the Revolution, and over the cities and towns 
which they rescued from despotic rule ; but think where 
their descendants have carried it and raised it in con- 
quest or protection ! , 

Tiirough what clouds of dust and smoke has it passed — 
what storms of shot and shell — what scenes of fire and 
blood! Not only at Saratoga, at Monmouth, and at 
Yorktown, but at Lundy's Lane and New Orleans, at 
Buena Vista and Chapultepec. 

It is the same glorious old flag which, inscribed with 
the dying words of Lawrence, '* Don't give up the ship," 
w^as hoisted on Lake Erie by Commodore Perry, just on 
the eve of his great naval victory, — the same old flag 
which our great chieftain bore in triumph to the proud 
city of the Aztecs, and planted upon the heights of her 
national palaces. 

Brave hands raised it above the eternal regions of ice 
in the Arctic seas, and have set it up on the summits of 
the lofty mountains of the distant West. Where has it 
not gone, the pride of its friends and the terror of its 
foes? What countries and seas has it not visited ? Where 
has not the American citizen been able to stand beneath 
its guardian folds and defy the world ? 

With what joy and exultation have seamen and tour- 
ists gazed upon its stars and stripes, read in it the history 
of their nation's glory, received from it the full sense of 
security, and drawn from it the inspiration of patriotism ! 
How many have lived for it, and how many have died 



NUMBER ONE. 91 

for it! How many heroes have its folds covered in 
death ! 

And wherever that flag has gone it has been a herald 
of a better day — it has been the pledge of freedom, of 
justice, of order, of civilization, and of Christianity. 
Tyrants only have hated it. All who sigh for the tri- 
umph of righteousness and truth salute aud love it. 

A. P. Putnam. 



LOST TOMMY. 



PRAY, have you seen our Tommy? 
He's the cutest little fellow, 
With cheeks as round as apples, 

And hair the softest yellow. 
You see, 'twas quite a while ago, — 

An hour or two, perhaps, — 
When grandma sent him off to buy 
A pound of ginger-snaps. 

We have traced him to the baker's. 

And part way back again ; 
We found a little paper sack 

Lying empty in the lane. 
But Tommy aud the ginger-snaps 

Are missing totally ; 
I hope they both will reappear 

In time enough for tea. 

We have climbed up to the garret. 
And scoured the cellar through ; 

We have ransacked every closet. 
And the barn and orchard too ; 



92 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

We have hunted through the kitchen, 
And the pantry ? Oh ! of course,— 

We have screamed and shouted " Tommy** 
Until we're fairly hoarse. 

Poor mamma goes distracted, 

And pretty Auntie May 
Is sure the darling cherub 

Has somehow lost his way. 
Well, well, I'll give another look 

Into the nursery ; 
I hardly think the little rogue 

Can hide away from me. 

Ah ! here's the laundry basket, 

Within I'll take a peep. 
Why — what is this curled up so tight ? 

'Tis Tommy, fast asleep. 
O mamma, auntie, grandma ! 

Come and see the fun. 
Tommy, where's the ginger-snaps ? 

"Eaten! — every one!" 

" Bless my heart !" laughs auntie ; 

" Dear, dear, I shall collapse ; 
Where could he stow them all away ? 

A pound of ginger-snaps !" 

But mamma falls to kissing. 

Forgetting fright and toil. 
While grandma bustles out to fetch 

A dose of castor oil. 

Mrs. Julia M. T>j^a. 



I 



NUMBER ONE. 9^ 

THE FOOLISH HAREBELL. 



A HAREBELL hung its willful head : 
" I am tired, so tired ! I wish I was dead." 

She hung her head in the mossy dell : 
" If all were over, then all were well." 

The wind he heard, and was pitiful ; 
He waved her about to make her cool. 

" Wind, you are rough," said the dainty bell ; 
" Leave me alone — I am not well." 

And the wind, at the voice of the drooping dame, 
Sank in his heart, and ceased for shame. 

• " I am hot, so hot !" she sighed and said ; 
" I am withering up ; I wish I was dead." 

Then the sun, he pitied her pitiful case, 
And drew a thick veil over his face. 

" Cloud, go away, and don't be rude ; 
I am not — I don't see why you should." 

The cloud withdrew, and the harebell cried, 
" I am faint, so faint ! and no water beside !" 

And the dew came down its million-fold path ; 
But she murmured, " I did not want a bath." 

A boy came by in the morning gray ; 

{le plucked the harebell, and threw it away. 

The harebell shivered, and cried, " Oh ! oh 1 
I am faint, so faint ! Come, dear wind, blow." 



94 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

The wind blew softly, and did not speak. 
She thanked him kindly, but grew more weak. 

"Sun, dear sun, I am cold,'* she said. 
He rose ; but lower she drooped her head. 

" O rain ! I am withering ; all the blue 
Is fading out of me ; — come, please do." 

The rain came down as fast as it could, 
But for all its will, it did her no good. 

She shuddered and shriveled, and moaning said; 
" Thank you all kindly;" and then she was dead. 

Let us hope, let us hope, when she comes next year, 
She'll be simple and sweet. But I fear, I fear. 

George Macdonald. 



ONLY A BABY SMALL. 



ONLY a baby small, dropped from the skies ; 
Only a laughing face, two sunny eyes ; 
Only two cherry lips, one chubby nose ; 
Only two little hands, ten little toes ; 
Only a golden head, curly and soft ; 
Only a tongue that wags loudly and oft; 
Only a little brain, unvexed by thought ; 
Only a little heart, troubled by naught ; 
Only a tender flower, sent us to rear ; 
Only a life to love while we are here. 

Matthias Babe. 



NUMBER ONE. 95 

BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF C^SAR. 



ROMANS, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for 
my cause, and be silent that yoi may hear. Be- 
lieve me for mine honor ; and have respect to mine honor 
that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom, and 
awake your senses that you may the better judge. 

If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of 
Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was 
not less than his. If, then, that friend demand why 
Brutus rose against Csesar, this is my answer • Not that 
I loved Csesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had 
you rather Csesar were living, and die all slaves, than 
that Csesar were dead, to live all freemen ? 

As Csesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortu- 
nate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; 
but as he was ambitious, I slew him ! There are tears 
for his love ; joy for his fortune ; honor for his valor ; 
and death for his ambition ! 

Shakespeare. 



96 



YOITNG folks' RECITATIONS. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



THREE LITTLE MUSHROOMS. 



[A performance for three very little girls. They should be dressed in 
white, cream color, or pale pink — each carrying an open parasol directly 
over the head, to imitate a mushroom top. The parasols should be cov- 
ered with the same material as that of which the dresses are made.] 



FIRST GIRL. 

THREE little toad-stools, 
Don't you see? 
ties' as tunnin* as 
We can be. 

SECOND GIRL. 

Where did we come from ? 

We don't know, 
Guess in the same place 

Violets grow. 

THIRD GIRL. 

What are we dood for ? 

Jes' to keep 
Kain from the mosses 

When they sleep. 



FIRST GIRL. 

What else dood for ? 

Lem' me see ! 
Fool boys, sometimes, 

'Tween you an' me. 

SECOND GIRL. 

How old are we ? 

Don't know, quite — 
Reckon we came in 

A shower last night. 

THIRD GIRL. 

Where are we goin' to. 

Oh! now, say! 
Wif all de flowers 

In mamma's bouquet. 



MilBEK U.NE. 97 

EEAL ELOCUTION. 



[This can bo made a most laugh j,ble afFair. Five boys ranging from 
fourteen to sixteen >eurs L.f agvi &hould bo belected— such as can act well 
and who can make the by-play full of amusing incidents. There must 
be an air of reality imparted to the whole, or the performers will fail in 
producing the best effect. The tallest boy may represent the Professor, 
and he sh'^ ild speak in a full, deep tone, and bear himself in a very 
pompous Ljdnner.] 

Professor {entering and followed by four or five boys\ — 
Now, young gentlemen, we have met to learn the won- 
derful art of elocution. This word is derived from two 
Latin words, e, out of, and loquor, loqui, locutus, to speak, 
so the word means to speak out. Half the world speak 
down their throats — that is not elocution. I differ from 
every other teacher in this. I do everything called for 
in the piece. If a cough is mentioned, why, I stop and 
cough ; if a horse is spoken of, then I whinny like a 
horse. This I call real elocution. You must observe 
two directions which I shall give you : First, let your 
voices well out; next, you must observe and copy me 
and my gestures. Can you remember these? 

No. 1. — Yes, sir ; I think we can remember them ; but 
how much shall we let our voices out. I am always 
afraid I shall bust something if I let my voice out too 
much. 

P. — Well, sir, let me hear you speak, and then I can 
judge. Do you know, " On Linden when the sun was 
low''? 

No, 1. — Yes; I know that. 

P. — Well, you may speak it. 

No, 1 (^puts himself in a position, and in a very loud 
and high voice recites:) 

" On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 

Of Iser rolling rapidly." 



;^'-.>-^^:^^;^ps^^ 



98 YOUNG folks' RLCITATI0N8. 

P. {clapping his hands to his ears). — Hold! enough, 
enough. Do you all speak as loud as that? 

No. 4. — Just like that, sir. 

P. — Well, then, I'll withdraw the rule requiring you to 
speak so loud as you can, and beg you instead to speak 
moderately — moderately, gentlemen. But you must be 
sure to move and act as you see me do. Our first selec- 
tion will be from Shakespeare. I told you all to provide 
yourselves with mantles, since the ancient Romans, 
whom we are to personate, wore them. Under the pres- 
ent circumstances, I stated that your sisters' waterproof 
cloaks would answer every ^purpose. 

No. 2. — I haven't any sister, Professor, so I got his sis- 
ter (pointing) to lend me her waterproof. Will that do 
just as well? 

P. — Certainly. Now throw them over your left arms. 

{In drawing them No, 3 accidentally hits No. 4, who, 
rubbing his arrriy says:) 

No. 4. — What are you about, hitting around in that 
way ? You Ve got to be more careful. 

{No. 1 also accidentally steps on the toes of No. 2, who 
limps around and makes great ado.) 

No. 2. — Oh ! oh ! my corns. What did you step on 
my corns for? 

P. — Gentlemen, you must be more careful. 

Nos. 2 and 4. — Why, we were just as careful as we 
could be. It's those fellow^s who aint careful. 

P. — Now, then, gentlemen, in line, if you please, and 
follow my directions. But first, I'll recite, as appro- 
priate to the occasion, Shakespeare's "Advice to the 
Players:" 

" Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to 
you ; tripping on the tongue ; but if you mouth it, as 







NUMBER ONE. 99 

many of our players do, I had as lief the town crier 
spake my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with 
your hand, thus, but use all gently." I repeat, gentle- 
men, be sure to imitate me : it is thus you will learn. 
Attention all : " If you have tears " (throwing out right 
hand toward them). 

Class, — " If you have tears" — (ako throwing out their 
right hands with great animation), 

P. — " Prepare to shed them now," (puts hands to eyes 
and whines and cries), 

C. — " Prepare to shed them now" (also put hands, etc. 
In doing this, No. 1 hits No. 2 with his sword, and he 
calls out : 

iVo. 2. — Oh ! why are you always hitting me ? I'm half 
inclined to think you did it on purpose. I aint going 
to stand it any longer, unless I have the chance to do 
some hitting back. 

P. — Silence, gentlemen. You must be willing to suffer 
something in the cause of education. " You all do know 
this mantle" — (throwing out left ami and pointing with 
the right), 

C, — " You all do know this mantle " — (same gestures; the 
various members dodging about as the swords are drawn), 

P, — " I remember the first time ever Csesar put it on." 

C. — " I remember the first time ever Csesar put it on." 

P. — " Look" — [throwing out right hand), 

C. — ** Look " — (repeat 'gesture), 

P. — '*In this place" — (pointing). 

C. — **In this place" — (pointing), 

P. — " Ran Cassius' dagger through." 

C. — ** Ran Cassius' dagger through." 

P. — "See what a rent the envious Casca made — here" 
— ij>ointing). 



.^-^:-^--:^^ 



100 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

C — " See what a rent the envious Casca made — here" 
— (pointing), 

P.— "Thro' this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed"— 
{pointing). 

C.—" Thro' this the well-beloved Brutus stabbed"— 
(^pointing). 

P. — "And as he plucked his cursed steel away" — 
' (drawing sivord back). 

C. — "And as he plucked his cursed steel away " — (draw- 
ing swords back, and in so doing No. 1 hits No. 2, which 
causes him to double up and cry out in a whining way). 

No. 2. — There you go again, always hitting some one, 
you are. And I'm not going to stand your nonsense 
any longer. 

P. — Silence there. 

C. — Silence there. (No. 2 calls out with the rest, though 
pretending to be in pain.) 

P. (raising sword). — Silence, I say ! 

C. (raising sword), — Silence, I say ! 

P. — Stop ! stop ! That is not found in the divine bard. 
Make ready, all. All ready ? 

a— Ready. 

P. — " Then burst his mighty heart " — (lejthand on heart, 
right arm over the eyes, pretending to weep). 

C. — "Then burst his mighty heart" — (imitating ges- 
tures). 

P, — " And in his mantle muffling up his face" — (folds 
cloak around his head). 

C. — ''And in his mantle muffling up his face " — (fold 
cloaks, etc.) 

P. — "Great Csesar " — (in a loud voice). 

0. — "Great Csesar" — (very loud). 

P. — " Fell " — (going suddenly on his knees). 



NUMBER OXE. 101 

(7. — " Fell " — {going down suddenly on their knees, and 
remain in this position about a minute). 

P. (rising). — Now, gentlemen, you have had your 
first lesson in real elocution, where everything is done 
that is spoken about in the piece itself. This one was 
intended to show you how an audience can be made to 
weep. The next will be to show you how it can be made 
to laugh. {All bow.) 



KNOWING THE CIRCUMSTANCES. 



Characters.— Five girls, from ten to twelve years of age: Maud, an 
orphan, and very poorly clad; Katie, Rosella, Edith, and Belle, 
daughters of wealthy parents. 

Scene. — The five girls standing near each other, Maud a 
little apart from the rest 

RoseUa. — O girls, my father has bought a beautiful 
sail-boat, and we expect to have a sail to-night upon the 
lake. Father gave me leave to invite a few of my 
friends to enjoy the sail with us. Will you go ? 

Katie, Edith, and Belle, together. — Oh ! yes, yes, yes ! 
Won't it be grand ? 

Katie. — Rosella, you are the best girl that ever was. 
[ Throws an arm around her.'] 

Rosella. — Will you not go with us, Maud? 

Maud {glancing at her shabby dress and worn-out shoes). 
— I would like to go, but fear I cannot. [ Turns to leave.] 

Rosella. — Come if you can, Maud. [^Exit Maud. 

Edith. — I cannot imagine why you are so anxious to 
have that ragged Maud Lindsey to be one of your sailing 
party. 



102 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

Belle,— Sot I. 

Katie. — Nor I. 

Edith. — I don't believe she has anything fit to wear. 
Did you not see her glance at her dress when she replied 
to your question? 

Rosella. — No ; I did not notice it. 

Katie. — How strange ! I noticed it ; didn't you, Belle ? 

Belle. — Yes, and I could not help pitying her, for I 
know she wanted to go so much. 

Edith. — I can't believe it our duty to invite such a 
ragged thing everywhere. I think it bad enough to be 
obliged to associate with her at school. 

Bosella. — O Edith ! you surely cannot blame Maud for 
having no better clothing! 

Edith. — I had no thought of blaming her; I only said 
I did not care to associate with her. 

Katie. — I wonder if she has no better clothes. 

Belle. — She had a better dress last summer. 

Katie. — But we are talking about this summer. 
[Maud appears on the stage and seems to be searching for 
something y but, not finding it, soon leaves.^ 

Edith. — I wonder what she was looking after. 

Belle. — She looked as if she had cried her eyes most 
out. 

Katie. — That's nothing new ; her eyes always look so. 

Bosella. — I think we should all weep as much as Maud, 
if in her place. Mrs. Mason knows all about Maud and 
her parents, and says, if she was able, she would take her 
and do by her as by a child of her own. 

Edith. — Did Mrs. Mason ever tell you about her ? 

Bosella. — ^Yes, she told me the other day. 

Belle. — Tell us about her, Bosella. 

Katie. — Yes, do. 



NUMBER ONE. 103 

Bosella. — I will, with pleasure. Maud's parents were 
very wealthy. They had two children besides Maud, 
a boy and a girl. One day her father came in looking 
very grave; he had failed. A few mornings after this, 
he awoke very ill. A physician was called, and his dis- 
ease pronounced diphtheria. In a short time they were 
all ill with the same disease, and only Maud recovered. 
lA silence of some minutes,'] 

Katie. — I have a dress at home which I think would 
fit Maud, and it is quite pretty. 

Edith, — I have some boots. They don't come up quite 
as high around the ankle as I like to have them ; but 
they are most new, and will look much better than her 
old ones. 

BMe, — I w ill ask my mother to buy her a new hat ; 
and I know she will, and some other things also. 

Bosella. — I will also give her some articles of clothing, 
but what she needs most is our love. Shall we not' give 
it to her. 

All. — Yes, yes, she shall have our love. 

[^Ourtain falls. 



A SONG OF THE STATES. 

Tune— My Native Land. 
FOR FOURTEEN LITTLE GIRLS. 



Each ^rl should be appareled in white, and one— the largest— so cos- 
tumed as to represent the Goddess of Libertj'. Each of the others should 
wear upon the head a band of pasteboard, bearing in gilt or silver letters 
the name of the State she represents, and carrying in the hand a small 
shield, which can also be made of pasteboard. Alternate stripes of white 
and red can be pasted lengthwise upon the shield within one-third of the 
distance from the top. On the one-third space, which must, of course, be 
blue, should be placed thirteen small white stars. On the reverse side 
maybe fastened a strip of tape to enable the child to hold the shield 
during the performance. 



104 YOUNG folks' recitations. 

Arrangement op Tableau.— The Goddess may be placed on one side 
of the group, and arranged in such way as to look with pride on the 
original thirteen, and the smallest child, which should represent Rhoda 
Island, might be kneeling at her feet, and holding in her hand a flag. 

The performance can either be rendered as solo or as chorus, as md| 
be best suited to the occasion. 

DID you ever hear of Columbus, 
Who came out to the West — 
Of all the mariners on earth 
The bravest and the best? 

He mann'd his boats, and picked his crew. 
With spirits bold and brave, 
* Who, like himself, knew naught of fear, 
And crossed the ocean wave. 

We thirteen sisters were the first 

To form into a band. 
And represent the thirteen States 

First chartered in this land. 

God bless the dauntless few who crosied 

The broad and rolling sea, 
To give to us a happy home 

So wide, and rich, and free. 







IN addition to our own publications herein mentioned, 
we make a specialty of supplying works relating 
to Elocution and Oratory, either in quantity oi 
single copies. Orders for books upon any subject will 
receive our prompt attention and be filled upon most 
favorable terms. 

For some time past we have felt the necessity of 
effecting an arrangement whereby we could supply the 
constant and increasing demand for 

Special ^ gelectioiis. 

It gives us great pleasure to announce that we now 
have facilities for filling this long-felt want. Selections 
a/e frequently read in public which please the audience 
and lead them to desire a copy, but not being personally 
acquainted with the reader, and knowing neither the 
author nor the publisher, they are at a loss to know how 
to proceed to obtain it. In most cases if the title be 
given us, or a short description of the selection, we can 
send the name and cost of the book in which the selec* 
tion is found; and upon receipt of price, we will for- 
ward a copy of the work. 

In a majority of cases however the selection is 
found in some of the paper-bound books of selections 
which sell at 30 cents. It will, therefore, save time and 
trouble to send the money with the inquiry. 

I'he pfational School of Elocution aiid Oratory, 

1124 ARCH STREET. 

PU3UCAriON DEPARTMENT, 

Chas. 0. Shoemaker, Manaqer. PHILADELPHIA. 



Sy SSV. SEE? WARD BSECSEE. 

5*^ 



'T^ 



r^ 



Neatly Bound, Cloth, 40 Cents. 



^HE attention of all persons interested in the Art 
(?)) of Expression is invited to our new issue of 
Henry Ward Beecher's unique and masterly ex- 
position of the fundamental principles of true oratory. 

*' Training in this department/' said Beecher, '* is 
the great want of our day ; for we are living in a land 
whose genius, whose history, whose institutions, whose 
people, eminently demand oratory." 

It must be conceded that few men ever enjoyed a 
wider experience or achieved a higher reputation in the 
realm of public oratory than Mr. Beecher. What he 
had to say on this subject was born of experience, and 
his own inimitable style was at once both statement 
and illustrative of his theme. 

From The School Journal, New York City : — ^' Richly 
freighted with the golden fruit of observation, ex- 
perience, sympathy, understanding, knowledge, and 
reason. '* 

Sold by all Booksellers, or mailed upon receipt of 
price. 

The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

1124 ARCH STREE.T, 

MJBI.ICATION DEPARTMENT, 

Chas. O. Shoemaker. Manaqer. PHILADELPHIA. 




GIOIGE ® IHMOS. 

por I^eading and l^ecitatioii. 

pDAPTED POI^ USB IN BUBLIG AND Bl^IYAn:tB. 

The Latest and best Book of Humor Published. 

200 Pages. Appropriately Engraved Cover. 

Paper BiiKlitiSy 30 Cents ; Boards, 50 Cents. 

TT S its name implies, the selections are chosen with 
1^ the greatest care, avoiding the coarse and vulgar 
^ on the one hand, and the flat and insipid on 
the other. 

The Publishers possess unequaled facilities for secur* 
ing the best readiri^s of every character, and the present 
volume may be considered without a rival. 

The pieces are new, but few of them having previ%. 
ously appeared in any similar publication, and the 
range of subjects is unusually wide. 

The repertoires of many of the best amateui 
and professional readers have been examined, 
and the choicest bits of humor have been carefully 
culled and bound up in this rich, golden sheaf, and 
are here offered to the public for the first time in book 
form. 

The book contains eighty-five pieces, is clearly printed 
on good, strong paper, and is bound in a handsome and 
appropriately engraved cover. Sold everywhere, or 
mailed upon receipt of price. 



i 



^he JJational School of Elocution and Qpatopy, 



1124 ARCH STREET. 

rWBLICATlON DEPARTMENT, 

Ohas. O. Shoemaker, Manager. 



PHILADELPHIA, 



Q^hild'l @UDn ^peal^GR 



FOR CHILDREN OF FIVE YEARS. 



100 Pieces, Attractively Bound. 



Paper Binding, 15 cts.; Boards, 26 cts. 



^^HIS little book is a collection of Recitations, Mo- 
^^ tion Songs, Concert Pieces, Dialogues, and Tab- 
leaux, for the very little children of five years old 
and thereabouts. In all, it contains loo pieces, many 
of whicli are entirely new as well as tiovel in arrange- 
ment, and have been specially written for this book. 

While keeping in mind the tender age of the little 
ones for whom this collection is intended, we have ex- 
cluded from it mere baby-talk, and have inserted only 
such pieces as contain some thought worth memorizing. 

The contents will be found to be varied, fresh, child- 
like, and entertaining, and of such a nature as to be 
adapted to almost every occasion. 

" Its selections are admirably adapted to amuse and instruct those 
for whose use it is intended." — Interior^ Chicago, 

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed 
upon receipt of price. 

The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

1124 ARCH STREET, 
Publication Department, 

Chas. C, Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA. 



^S^:f^.■^^,^.r'^>mf'^■ 



Volumes i, 2, 3, 4, and 5 issued. 

Designed for use in Sclpiools and Colleges and fo* 
Public and Social Entertainment. 



600 PAGES, CLOTH BOUND, EACH, $1.50. 



"* Special. — For a limited time we are offering the full set of 
five volumes, put up in neat and durable boxes, at the special 
price ef jS^S-OO; the regular price would be ^^7.50. 

EACH volume is composed o£ three numbers of 
TAe Elocuiionisf s Annual in 'the order of their 
issue, thus comprising the latest and best pro- 
ductions of the most popular English and American 
writers of to-day, together with the choicest se- 
lections of standard literature adapted to reading 
in public and private ; and is so arranged with indexes 
and classifications of selections, authors, etc., as to make 
it not only one of the most valuable collections ol 
choice readings ever published, but one of the most 
complete as a book of ready reference. 

H J. Greenwell, A M., Principal Bardstown Male and Female Institute, 
Bardstown, Ky., says ■ ''A work eminently suited to school-room purposes as 
•rell as for all departments of elocutionary drill." 



White gunlight of potent WoMf. 

An oration by Rev. John S. Macintosh, D. D. De- 
livered before the National School of Elocution and 
Oratory, June 15th, 1881. Cloth, 25 cents. 

The above books for sale by all Booksellers, or will 
be sent upon receipt of price by the Publishers, 

^he j^ational School of Elocution and OpatoFi], 

1124 ARCH STREET, 

PUBLICATION DEPARTMENT, 

Chas. C. Shoemaker. Manager. PHI LA DEL-PHI A. 



C hoice ^ Ij ialogue g 



FOR 



School and Soi^ial Entertainmeni 



t2mo. Handsomely Engraved Cover. Paper Binding, 
30 Cents. Boards, 50 Cents. 



THIS volume has been prepared in response to naany 
urgent and repeated requests. The topics hetve 
been arranged on a comprehensive plan, with 
reference to securing the greatest possible variety, and 
the matter has been prepared especially for us by ^ 
corps of able writers. Each production has been 
critically examined as to its moral tone, its literary 
structure and expression, and fts adaptation ^o the pur- 
pose intended. 

In the preparation of these Dialogues, provision has 
been made for all seasons and occasions — Private 
Entertainments, Sunday and Day School Ex- 
hibitions, Holidays, Anniversaries, National 
and Patriotic Celebrations, Temperance Meet- 
ings, etc., etc. , 

"We have read much of this book, and know ot 
nothing else so well suited to school and social pur 
poses." — Christian Statesman, Milwaukee, Wis. 

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers or mailed upon receij ' 
of price. , 

I'lie plat ion a! School o? Elocution ard Orstcry, 

1124 ARCH STREET. 

•UBUCATION DE«»»«TMFNT DTJ t T A f^XTI 13 M T A 

Chas. O. Shoemakeh. MANAoeR PHli-ADEl-HrtlA. 



El@(iyfei©BiF'Y GhiFtiS. 

OUXI^IPiB OK EI^OCUXIOX. 

A large wall charts 00x72 inches, iKindso'inely 
inoun ted. 

TIE arrangement of this chart is striking and sug- 
gestive, and presents a clear and practical analysis 
of the whole subject. Beginning with the defini-^ 
tion of elocution, it proceeds to treat of its im- 
portance, of conversation as its basis, of principles, 
and of methods of instruction. The outline of these 
topics, with their natural subdivisions, will enable the 
teacher to proceed systematically with the work of in- 
struction, and will, at the same time, assist the student 
to an intelligent comprehension of the subject. 



XABI.H OF VOCAI. EXERCISKS. 

A. small ivall charts 32x44 inches^ handsomely 
fnounfed. 

Tne distinctive aims of this chart are to secure purity, 
power, flexibility, a:id character of tone. Beginning 
with Lhe long vowel sounds, natural or conversational, 
it proceeds to the systematic cultivation of the voice, 
in response to the whole field of sentiment and passion. 
Then by a carefully arranged set of sentences these 
principles are immediately applied to expression, thus 
securing to the student such facility in their use as will 
enable him to apply them in conversation, in reading, 
or in public address. 

jyr>j^^j^^ , j Ofitline of Elocnfion $5,00 

j-nii^i^^. <^ Ta6^c> of Vocal Exercises. . . $2.00 

Sold by all Booksellers, or sent, prepaid, upon receipt 
of price. 

The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

1124 AROH STREET, 

Publication Department, 

Chas. C. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIA. 



llittle People'! 




FOR CHILDREN OF TEN YEARS. 



100 PAGES, HANDSOMELY ENGRAVED COVER. 



Paper Binding, 15 cts.; Boards, 25 cts. 



/^DAPTED to children of ten years of age, and 
J^ suited to every occasion in which the little folks 
are called upon to take part. 

Bright and witty child-thoughts, often tersely and 
beautifully expressed, and ranging in length from four 
to twenty lines, will please the wee ones. Motion 
Songs, Concert Recitations, Holiday Pieces, Ringing 
Temperance Speeches, and Soul-stirring Patriotic Ora- 
tions will delight the older boys and girls. 

A number of these pieces have been written specially 

for this. book, and all are fresh and new. 

** This book is adapted to all kinds of juvenile entertainments, 
and will supply a widely increasing demand for selections for the 
little ones.'* — Herald, Syracuse y N. Y. 

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or mailed 
upon receipt of price. 

The National School of Elocution and Oratory, 

1124 ARCH STREET, 

HiBLlCATlON O^PAR-'MFNT 

Chas C. Shoemaker, Manager. PHILADELPHIAr 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS { 



022 204 620 8 



TF you wish to become a gooc 

Speaker, you can receive insjtruct 
the direction of 

James E. Murdocli 

the eminent Shakespearean Scholar, 
-cturer, and Reader, who is Presidefit of 



ilSlocufior) and MFcrfo 

Idest School of Expression in this 
/, an institution which has enrolled upw? 
twenty-two hundred pupils. A catalor 
containing full description of the course 
structiop will be mailed upon applica 
e Secretary, Cecil Harper, 1124 Arch 
liladelphia, Pa. 



